


Embrace the Storm

by Brumeier



Series: At The Movies [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, M/M, Weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movie Fusion - Twister (Originally posted as part of Through the Gate, but my OCD made me to break it out and include it as part of my movie fusion series. LOL! No need to review if you've already done so, I promise!)</p><p>John left the storm chasing team for the life he thought he wanted. When he comes back he realizes he made a mistake, but is it too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrace the Storm

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/35962597951/in/dateposted-public/)

Front page of the Amarillo Globe-News, 26 years ago…

**MIRACLE AMID TRAGEDY**

_NEW MEXICO: In the wake of devastation from Friday’s powerful F-5 tornado, which tore a path of destruction through Roosevelt and Curry counties, there was a miracle. At the Travelodge outside of Clovis rescue workers didn’t hold out much hope of finding survivors in the flattened building, but as they sifted through the wreckage they discovered one young boy, seriously injured but still alive. The child, later identified as nine-year-old Meredith McKay, was transported to Plains Regional Medical Center, where he was treated for several broken bones and an unspecified head injury. McKay, visiting from Ontario, Canada, had been traveling with his parents and younger sister. A spokesperson for the family said that the boy is recovering and plans are being made for him to live with relatives here in the States._

*o*o*o*

The first big purchase John had made when he got the job at KSNW was to buy the fully-loaded black Dodge Ram that was right now flying down I-35 in the early morning hours. He felt it was representative of his new, more respectable life – shiny new truck, shiny new job, shiny new two-bedroom apartment with an actual view. He glanced at the woman in the passenger seat, looking unbelievably fresh in her white pants suit and her blonde hair done up in a fancy twist behind her head; shiny new fiancée.

It was perfect weather for a drive; the big Oklahoma sky was clear and the rising sun painted the wheat fields gold, though John could see the storm clouds already building in the distance. There was a time that his only consideration regarding inclement weather was whether or not it would ground him. After his discharge from the Air Force it had come to represent excitement and discovery, a new life. Now all he felt was conflicted. There was an echo of that old thrill whenever he saw lightning against a blackened sky, but now there was also regret and an odd sense of loss.

“You look nervous,” Nancy said. She put one elegant hand on his arm; her manicured nails were painted a very subtle shade of brown that she said was taupe; she always painted her nails neutral colors, and sometimes John wished she’d go for something bolder.

“I’m not nervous.” Which was a completely obvious lie to anyone who paid the slightest attention, and she certainly knew him better than that.

“Johnny…”

He flashed her an apologetic grin. “Okay, sorry. It’s just…been a while.”

“They’re your friends, I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”

“Sure.” John had no illusions about where he stood with the old gang. He hadn’t left on the best of terms – some might say he ran away – and despite Ronon’s phone call he wasn’t sure he’d be all that welcomed. Especially by Rodney. And of course it was Rodney he was most dreading to see.

“ _They_ called _you_ ,” Nancy reminded him.

“I know. Just…don’t expect too much, okay?”

“It’ll be fine, honey, you just wait and see.”

Nancy sometimes had a bit too much optimism, though perhaps it was a natural defense against John’s inherent pessimism. His life, for the most part, had been a compilation of fuck-ups strung together with unbelievable bits of luck and the occasional unadulterated joy of flying. Things were going so well for him right now that he couldn’t help feeling there was something just over the horizon waiting to screw it all up.

While John followed the directions he’d been given over the phone, Nancy chattered about how lovely the countryside was and how maybe they should add a few days to their trip, visit Oklahoma City. The closer they got to the team’s encampment the more John’s stomach knotted up. He’d been gone just over a year, which suddenly seemed like forever. What if some of the old gang had left? What if they all hated him?

He saw the vehicles first, a motley assortment of cars, trucks and Ronon’s repurposed short bus; they bore the scars of severe weather – chipped paint from flying debris and dimples from hail. John pulled in next to the bus, which was painted brown and emblazoned with an airbrushed tornado and the appellation _Puddlejumper_ ; before he’d even put the truck in park the six and a half foot tall, dreadlocked owner of the bus had John’s door open.

“Sheppard! You came!”

John quickly undid his seat belt before Ronon could disembowel him trying to pull him out of the seat. He was immediately engulfed in a crushing bear hug. When he extricated himself Nancy was hovering uncertainly nearby, looking a bit intimidated.

“Of course I came. Figured this would be better than waking up some morning with you looming over my bed.”

Ronon punched him good naturedly in the shoulder, which made him stumble back a step, wincing. The man was a monster, all muscle and darkly tanned skin. A geometric tattoo circled one forearm and he had random bits of jewelry strung through his dreads. He’d been one of John’s closest friends, back during his chase days.

“Who you got there?” he asked, nodding at Nancy.

“Ronon, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Nancy Carmichael. Nancy, Ronon Dex.”

The big guy raised an eyebrow, the only sign of his surprise, and shook Nancy’s hand; it was dwarfed in his big paw. “Pleasure.”

“Johnny’s told me a lot about you.”

The nickname got a full-on smile and John winced again. He’d never hear the end of this, he was sure. He was saved from further humiliation by the appearance of Carson.

“John! What a pleasant surprise!” The two men exchanged manly slaps on the back. “What brings you all the way from Wichita?”

“Chewie gave me a call,” John replied, tilting his head at Ronon. “Told me I should stop by.”

Carson nodded solemly. “Aye, and it’s good he did. Wouldn’t be right not to have you here.”

Ronon nudged Nancy forward. “John’s fiancée,” he said.

Again John was given a surprised look, and he scowled in return. He didn’t know why it was such a shock that he should be getting married; it wasn’t like he’d never dated while he’d been part of the group. And okay, maybe it had only been that one girl but still. 

At least Carson had better manners, even if his usually faint Scottish accent suddenly got thick as molasses. “Well, congratulations are in order then. I’m Carson. It’s _verra_ nice to meet you.” 

“Nancy.”

Carson made to kiss the back of her hand and John slapped his arm away. “Knock that off!”

“Just being polite” he replied, but there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

John opened his mouth to say something, but then he heard Rodney’s familiar, aggravated voice coming from the other side of the bus, and nerves clutched at his gut.

“Clearly you calibrated it wrong, or it would be working. Obviously Skywarn is being run by a bunch of toddlers if _that’s_ the best you can do.”

There was only one person he argued with like that and John wasn’t disappointed to hear Radek’s terse response, his Czech accent thick. “I calibrate properly. You have not attached to power source.”

The two men came around the front of the van and John felt his breath catch in his throat. Rodney. He hadn’t changed at all in the last year; he still wore the same ridiculous gray coveralls, his eyes were still the color of a clear blue sky. He carried a tablet in one hand and gestured with the other. Radek, walking along beside him, pushed his round glasses further up his nose and looked as if he were holding back from physically assaulting Rodney; not an uncommon impulse.

“Do you honestly think I’d forget something so elementary? I can’t believe…hmm. Yes, I see it.” Rodney was looking down at the tablet, not paying attention to where he was going, so when John spoke he jerked in surprise.

“Hey, Rodney.”

The other man looked momentarily startled, and then his face settled into a mask of bland indifference; he couldn’t hide the anger in his eyes, though.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Ah, John, is good to see you.” Radek came forward to shake his hand. “You have been missed, my friend.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” Rodney snapped. “Chop, chop!”

“ _Jdi do píči_ ,” Radek replied sourly as he stomped off.

“Everybody back to work!”

There was some grumbling but when Rodney snapped out orders it was easiest to just do what he said. In mere seconds it was just the three of them and John took a few steps back to lean against the truck, doing his best to achieve a look of casual calm; beneath the surface he was jittering like he’d just touched a live wire.

“Why are you here?” Rodney’s already slanted mouth took an even deeper downturn. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a plaid sports coat and giving a _weather report_ somewhere in the barren wasteland of Nebraska, or wherever it is you live now?”

John clenched his jaw at the disparaging tone in Rodney’s voice when he mentioned the new job. He knew it was going to be a sore point and had to struggle not to respond in kind.

“Ronon called me. Told me you’re ready to take Dorothy out.”

A flicker of something like sadness flashed across his face, there and gone in a millisecond. “You walked away from Dorothy. You have no rights to be here now.”

Nancy moved to John’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. Rodney eyes widened then narrowed down to small, angry slits.

“Johnny? Is everything alright?”

“This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have…let’s just go.” He turned his back on Rodney – _again_ , the little voice in his head sneered at him – and had one hand on the door handle when he heard Teyla’s voice.

“John? Is that you?”

He turned and felt some of the tension leave him when he saw Teyla hurrying towards him, her whole face lit up with a smile. Instead of hugging, they each leaned forward until their foreheads were touching; it was her thing, and John had always found it charming if a little quirky.

“Ronon said he called you but I did not think you would come. I am glad to be wrong.”

“You look great,” he said honestly. Teyla was like a smaller, more feminine version of Ronon – she had clearly defined muscles in her arms and legs, and was a black belt in several different martial arts. For all that physical fierceness, though, she was the peacemaker of the group.

“Thank you. City life seems to be agreeing with you.”

“I like sleeping in my own bed every night, that’s for sure.”

Teyla nodded, then turned her attention to Nancy; as a stranger she got an intensive once-over and a handshake. “I am Teyla; it is very nice to meet you.”

“Nancy. John and I are…ah…”

“Getting married.” Rodney said it like marriage was some kind of venereal disease. “Couldn’t help noticing the ridiculously large engagement ring. That must’ve set you back.”

Teyla flashed John a quick frown before turning a big smile on Nancy. “That is wonderful news! Come. You must meet the others. Rodney, be nice. John came a long way.”

It was just the two of them and John made a very intensive study of his feet, unable to look Rodney in the eye. Distant thunder rumbled and it filled him with a longing he couldn’t name.

“Good sky today,” he said when the silence became oppressive.

“Biggest series of storms in twelve years,” Rodney said. “One lined up right after another. NSSL says they’ve never seen anything like it.”

It was a storm chaser’s dream. John risked looking up and saw that he was being studied. What did Rodney see? Could he detect the lies that John had been wrapping around himself for the last year? Suddenly his shiny life felt like the rice paper construction that it was.

“So…how’s the job?” Rodney looked incredibly uncomfortable, the way he kept shifting on his feet; the frown seemed to have taken up permanent residence. John gave him points for trying though.

“It’s good. Wichita is small time, but there’s a chance I could go national. Maybe the Weather Channel. They say I have a…uh…good backstory. You know. With the storm chasing.”

“And you like that? Standing in front of a green screen and telling people whether or not they should take an umbrella to work? You belong out in the field, John, not behind a desk.”

John could feel himself tensing up. Not so much from the derisive tone of Rodney’s voice than from the fact he was right; it _wasn’t_ the same.

“You can’t live on the adrenalin rush forever,” he said tightly. “I’m not the bad guy because I wanted something stable.” He almost said _normal_.

Rodney glowered. “You’re the bad guy because you left your work _unfinished_. You didn’t see it through and now that someone _else_ has done all the hard work you can’t come waltzing back in here and take the credit!”

“I wouldn’t…”

“The hell you wouldn’t! If this works – _when_ it works – it’s going to be a big deal, bigger than when they revised the Fujita scale. Imagine how far you could ride that kind of notoriety – TV deals, maybe even a movie of your heroic struggle against nature.” Rodney was fairly vibrating with fury by this point, and John’s hands clenched into fists in response to the slanderous outpouring. “And you’ll just turn your back on us _again_ , and that will be that. I should _never_ have let you join the team.”

John was finding it increasingly difficult not to throw a punch. How could Rodney feel that way, after all they’d been through together? It hurt him, which only made him angry because he didn’t need this. Taking that call from Ronon had been a huge mistake, he could see that now; the time for friendly reunions and reminiscing was over. And maybe he’d left, but no-one had exactly tried to make him stay either.

“ _Rodney!_ ” Teyla’s sharp exclamation cut through the tension. She had her hands on her hips and looked about ready to throw down and get her hands dirty. “You should not say such things! You know they are not true.”

“I don’t know any such thing,” Rodney snapped. He turned on his heel and stormed off; if he’d been a cartoon there would’ve been a heavy black cloud hanging over his head.

The awkward silence that followed was abruptly broken by someone John didn’t know, a young woman with strawberry blonde hair pulled up into a messy ponytail and wearing cut-off jeans and a plaid shirt.

“Wow, John Sheppard in the flesh?” She gave his hand a hearty shake and he immediately thought _farm girl_. “Jeez, you’re like a celebrity around here. All I hear are Sheppard stories. Nice to finally get to meet the man behind the myth.”

“Uh…hey?”

“John, this is Laura Cadman. She joined us five months ago.” Teyla made the introduction smoothly, though he could tell she was still annoyed with Rodney.

“Yeah, I took over procurement from Radek; poor guy wasn’t very good at it, really, and I don’t mind. I also run the digital camera and one of the digital recorders.”

“Procurement?” John asked, feeling a bit lost. He didn’t recall that being a job description.

“Sure. You know, making sure we have rooms in whatever town we wind up in at the end of day. Getting coffee, supplies, that kind of thing.”

“She is very efficient,” Teyla put in.

“And cute as a button,” Carson offered, walking up behind Laura and sliding his arms around her waist. _Ah_ , John thought. The man _had_ always liked those fresh-faced Midwestern girls, and this one had that in spades.

John didn’t want to leave; in fact, he had an incredible desire to stay, to catch up with his friends and retell all the old stories. Aside from Nancy he hadn’t made many new friends in Wichita and those he had were more acquaintances really. There was a certain level of intimacy to be attained when you were out in the middle of storm, getting pummeled by hail and rain and hundred mile an hour winds; you couldn’t get that sitting around a television studio drinking coffee and discussing golf handicaps. Still, Rodney had made it clear he wasn’t welcome.

“Listen, I should be going. What’d you do with Nancy?”

“Ronon is showing her Dorothy.” Teyla looped her arm through his and led him through the obstacle course of vehicles and equipment to Rodney’s yellow Jeep Pioneer. Ronon and Nancy were standing beside it, and he was gesturing at the instrument pack that was strapped down to the bed. _Dorothy_.

“…Sheppard’s design. Now we’ll test it out and see if it works.”

“It’ll work,” John heard himself say. Eyes only for the shiny aluminum canister, he dropped the tailgate and lifted himself up onto the back of the Jeep. He couldn’t believe Rodney finished it, took it from the computer design and made it real. It was bulkier than he’d thought it would be, welded to a metal frame painted yellow. There were warning lights on each side that would flash red when it was turned on, and several different pieces of storm measurement equipment – including the ubiquitous anemometer – attached to the frame.

“What does it do?” Nancy asked, in the voice that John learned meant she was asking merely to be polite and not because she had any real interest. That was fine because he had interest enough for both of them.

“It helps us study tornadoes in a way no-one else has ever been able to. Scientists have been studying them forever but there’s still no way to determine which storm is going to produce a tornado, or why. Dorothy will be able to take scientific measurements from inside the funnel.”

John was dimly aware that they’d drawn a crowd, the other storm chasers watching him avidly. He pushed the button that opened the lid and pulled out one of the palm-sized sensors, which was round and translucent, giving a view of the circuitry contained inside.

“We put the instrument pack in the path of the tornado. When wind speeds reach a designated minimal level the lid opens up and releases these sensors. They’ll measure all parts of the tornado simultaneously and radio back information about the internal structure, wind velocities and flow asymmetry. We could get a profile of a tornado and learn more in thirty seconds than anyone has for the last thirty years.”

There was some raucous cheering at that and John couldn’t help but smile, even as he caught sight of Rodney at the edge of the group, arms crossed. 

Nancy looked flustered. “But…why?”

“Why?” Rodney pushed his way forward and Radek let out a yelp when his foot was trod upon. “There are an average of sixty tornado-related deaths per year, and property damage in the billions of dollars. The warnings are, yes, much better than they were, but it’s still not good enough. No where near good enough. The more we know, the better we can predict which storms will produce tornadoes. We’ll be able to give people a better chance to get to safety.”

John was quite familiar with that particular speech, and all its many iterations. Unlike the rest of them, Rodney had a lot of personal demons tied up with tornadoes and tornado research. Secretly he’d always thought that Rodney was a lot like the storms he chased – capricious, his moods changing on a dime, capable of leaving a path of emotional destruction behind him. 

Somehow, Rodney had been able to put together a team that – for the most part – met his high standards of competence and intelligence, and didn’t seem to take his biting comments to heart; anyone too sensitive wouldn’t have lasted a week with him in the field. The rest of them had come into storm chasing for various reasons, though adrenalin junkie almost seemed like a job description, but Rodney was the only one who was actively terrified of the big storms that he chased with such single-minded determination.

John met Rodney’s eyes and nodded. One thing he’d always understood was that it only hurt the other man to downplay his motivations for the Dorothy project. Rodney was driven to _know_ the tornado, to figure it out, to reduce it to numbers and science and therefore sap it of its power. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when that day came; what would become of Rodney once he’d bested the enemy? 

Everyone turned their heads when another vehicle pulled in, tires churning up the grass. John returned the sensor to Dorothy and closed the lid, but he stayed up on the back of the Jeep as the last member of the group popped out of his Subaru.

“Sheppard? No shit! What’re you doin’ back?” Lorne hopped up on the back of Rodney’s truck and captured John in a hug.

“I’m not back.”

“Sure. Hey, McKay. NSSL says the caps are breaking, the tower’s going up to thirty miles up the dryline.”

It seemed suddenly that everyone was holding their breath and looking at Rodney. He looked a John a second longer and then his fingers were snapping and he was moving.

“All right, let’s go!”

“We’re on the move!” Ronon bellowed. 

The team scattered. Equipment was bundled up and stowed, cars were started, and John stood there in the middle of all of it feeling like a stranger. He remembered what it was like, scrambling to catch up to a storm and waiting to see if a funnel would drop. The thrill of the chase. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it till now.

“Sheppard!” Ronon called from the window of the Puddlejumper. “Come with us. See Dorothy fly!”

John looked at Nancy, who was watching the proceedings with wide eyes. He couldn’t imagine how this all seemed to her, or how he’d convince her that following along would be a good idea, but he wanted this so badly that maybe she could just read it in his face.

“It won’t hurt to tag along, will it?” she asked.

John gave her a quick kiss. “Let’s go!”

“Sheppard!” Lorne tossed him something as he drove slowly past. “Keep in touch!”

It was an ear piece, small and black. John wondered which of their revolving supply of benefactors had financed it; in the past they’d gotten by with just CB radios and cell phones. He hastily hooked it over his ear and thumbed it on.

“Dorothy two and three ready!” Ronon reported.

“Dorothy four ready!” Radek added.

“Glad you’re back, laddie!” Carson called as he and Laura went driving by.

“I’m not back!”

*o*o*o*

John and Nancy were at the rear of the pack, right behind Ronon who was always last. He loved seeing their little caravan speeding up the interstate, bristling with weather gauges and the link to the GOES satellite. When he’d first started chasing with Rodney it had all made him feel a little bit like a spy or something. Of course, that was before he realized how outdated some of the equipment was, and that it was mostly thanks to Rodney and Radek that it kept working at all.

One of the things Rodney was touchy about was being called a Meteorologist. Though he had a degree in it, he much preferred _Severe Weather Engineer_. He’d designed half the equipment they hauled around to record storm data – with help from John and Radek, and on at least two occasions he’d consulted with Tim Samaras who was also an engineer that specialized in storm data.

“This is kind of exciting,” Nancy said. “You used to do this regularly?”

“Yeah. As soon as tornado season started we’d be out in the field. The rest of the time we were in the lab, working on the Dorothy project and compiling data.” 

“And you got paid for that?” she asked skeptically. 

John chuckled. “I suppose you could say that. We didn’t get paid a lot – most of it came from a University stipend. But we got grants and some of our more generous benefactors would give us a little extra in addition to equipment. News networks would sometimes buy our video footage. One year we got picked to work with the Vortex project, which was pretty cool.” Except for how Rodney had chafed at not being the one calling the shots and butted heads with dour Dr. Wurman the entire time.

“That doesn’t sound very reliable.”

“Suppose not.” He knew that the first year the team had been organized, before he fell into it, Rodney had done most of the funding out of his own pocket. His parents had left him a sizeable inheritance and he’d had no problem dipping into it for the good of the team; not a lot of people were aware of that.

John flicked a glance at his rearview, and then took a longer look. There were several sleek black SUVs coming up behind him, like something out of the Men in Black. He had a gut-wrenching moment of certainty that it was some black ops deal – you can take the man out of the military but not the military out of the man – and then he got a better look as the lead vehicle drew closer and signaled, indicating that they wanted to pass.

“Kavanagh. Son of a bitch!”

“Who is that, Johnny?” Nancy twisted in her seat to look out the back window.

“Peter Kavanagh. He’s a dick. He was on the original team, with Rodney and Radek, and then I joined up and we all worked together. He was good at what he did, but not great.” _Not like Rodney_. “He formed his own team, got some nice corporate sponsors that give him snazzy cars and state of the art equipment, and then trot him out regularly as a shining example of all the good they’re doing for science and the environment.”

It was a surprise, really, how much bitterness there still was. Kavanagh was never a friend, always just a colleague. He was the kind of guy that had to break people down to make himself look better. He’d been vocal of his dislike for Rodney and how he was running the lab, and when Kavanagh finally left for greener pastures he’d committed some petty but irritating sabotage that had set them back months. 

And there was the man himself pulling past on the left. He shot an incredulous look at John from his seat on the passenger side of his shiny SUV, still sporting a ponytail and the glasses that John knew for a fact were merely an affectation. He tapped at his earpiece.

“Rodney, what’s Kavanagh doing here?”

_Who the hell gave you a radio?_

“Rodney…”

_How should I know? The same thing we are, presumably. Did he look surprised to see you?_

“Yeah.”

Nancy opened her mouth, presumably to ask another question, but the last SUV was passing and it had a large, wide trailer attached to it that didn’t give John enough room in his own lane.

“Shit! Hold on!” He jerked the wheel to the right, leaving the asphalt and bumping through a ditch. He felt it when the right rear tire blew, probably punctured by something in the ditch. “Damn it!”

 _You need some help, Sheppard?_ Ronon asked in his ear.

“Only if you have time. I need to put the spare on.”

_McKay?_

_Yes, fine, whatever. Things look stalled on the Doppler anyway. Meet us at the truck stop off the next exit._

“Thanks, Rodney.”

There was no reply.

*o*o*o*

The truck stop boasted a diner and an auto repair shop, not to mention a gas station. John knew the stop had been for his benefit, even though Rodney made a big show of getting all the vehicles gassed up. The flat tire turned out to have a pretty straight-forward puncture, and the mechanic assured John that it would be a quick patch job, no more than fifteen minutes. Nancy used a key attached to a huge piece of wood to get into the outside-access restroom; John had no doubt there’d be vigorous scrubbing with antibacterial gel when she was done.

Kavanagh’s team was also utilizing the truck stop, the SUVs parked in a neat line in front of the diner. There were reporters interviewing him, and John wasn’t sure if they were part of his entourage or if he’d called ahead; the dick loved an audience. He wasn’t really paying that much attention, until all of a sudden he was and he felt like he’d been kicked in the solar plexus.

“What drives me is the unknown,” Kavanagh said superciliously. “What if we could predict a tornado’s path? How many lives would be spared with the creation of an early warning system?”

That’s when John saw it – the instrument pack that looked like a close relation to his own Dorothy; too close to be a coincidence.

“D.O.T. 3 is the answer. The first digital orthographic telemeter. And inside, she holds these little sensors.” He held one up; his was square. “Which, when released into the tornado, will transmit back data on wind speed, pressure, and dew point temperature.”

John saw red, his skin flushing hotly with it. He glanced over at Rodney, who was consulting with the rest of the team over a map spread out on Lorne’s hood. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Rodney called out. “Damn it, Sheppard!”

It was too late. In mere seconds John had hold of Kavanagh’s shirt and pushed him against the side of the SUV, a part of him enjoying the look of terrified indignation on the other man’s face.

“You stole our design, you son of bitch! You think I wasn’t gonna find out?”

Ronon appeared at his side, pulling him off Kavanagh who was then able to settle into wounded snarkiness.

“What’s the matter with you, John? Are you crazy?”

“You stole our design,” John growled back.

“I understand,” Kavanagh said, smug. “You want to take credit for my design. That’s typical.”

“You’re full of crap. She was our idea, mine and Rodney’s, and you know it.”

“Unrealized idea.”

John had to exert a tremendous amount of willpower to keep from punching him in the face, not that Ronon would’ve let him. Rodney was slow to join the party but there was no ignoring him once he was there, arms crossed over his chest belligerently.

“Settle down, John, before you hurt someone. Everyone knows he’ll never get that thing up in the air.”

“Well, let me enlighten you,” Kavanagh said with a sneer. “This baby has satellite comlink. We’ve got on-board pulse Doppler, and NEXRAD real time. Today, I make history. So stick around.”

“Kavanagh, you couldn’t find a tornado in a bottle, much less one on the ground.” Rodney gave him a patented sniff of derision. “Your science is sloppy, your theories laughable, and you have all the instincts of a rock. So no, I don’t think we’ll be sticking around to watch _you_ try to fumble your way to fame.”

He turned his back on the other man, the action speaking louder than words. _You don’t matter_. John concurred, shrugging out of Ronon’s grip. He couldn’t hold that feeling of righteousness for very long, not with Rodney’s piercing gaze focused on him now.

“Stop acting like a child, Sheppard. If you can’t keep your shit together go home. We don’t need your drama.”

Kavanagh, who had been slinking his way to the door of the diner, turned around and said, “By the way, I really enjoy your _weather reports_.” He practically ran the rest of the way when Ronon took a threatening step in his direction.

“He’s a kiss-ass, John.” Lorne scowled. 

“He won’t get it to work,” Rodney said tersely. “You know he won’t.”

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “One day, McKay. I’m sticking around for one day to see if she flies, and then I’m out.”

“Of course. Why would I expect _you_ to see anything through?” Rodney turned and stalked away, his shoulders hunched. Nancy filled the space he’d left behind, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Johnny, is everything okay?”

“Fine. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” She ran a hand up and down his back and if she couldn’t feel the tension in the muscles there she was incredibly obtuse. But she didn’t push for an explanation.

“I’m good.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m gonna hang out here and get some air. Why don’t you get us some cold drinks?”

“Okay.” Nancy pulled him down for a proper kiss and then she was off. 

John walked a little bit up the road, keeping his eye on the sky. He struggled to clear his mind of everything – Rodney’s angry words and Kavanagh’s latest manipulation and the fact that he’d missed all of this so goddamn much. He knew if he worked at it a little he could regain that sense of connection to the weather – the shifts in wind and temperature, the drops in barometric pressure, the way clouds and atmosphere almost spoke to him.

He dropped to one knee and scooped up a handful of dirt, sifting it slowly through his fingers and watching how it drifted. The only priority that demanded his immediate attention was to find the storm and deploy Dorothy. Years of development and design and setbacks all came down to this one moment, this one day, and Rodney was right – he needed to see it through no matter what. He owed it to the team, but mostly he owed it to himself. He needed to stop running.

“Sheppard.” Ronon came up behind him, hands in the pockets of his baggy cargo shorts. “What’s the good word?”

“Goin’ green,” John replied. He nodded up at the sky, which had taken on an undeniably green tint.

“You know that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Jury’s still out on that,” he said amiably. Whether or not a green sky actually predicated a tornado was a topic of debate, but he knew what his gut was telling him. “Saddle them up.”

“On it.” Ronon activated his ear piece and put out the call to everyone to get in their cars and get moving. John pulled the keys out of his pocket and gave the truck a once-over, noting that the tire had been replaced and looked good as new. He paid the mechanic, thanked him, and then met Nancy as she was coming out of the diner with two paper cups in her hands.

“I got you a lemonade…”

John didn’t bother mentioning that he didn’t drink, or eat, anything with citrus. No-one on the team did, even though Rodney was the only one with the allergy. It was overkill maybe, but after Rodney spent three days in the hospital because of wayward lemon juice in his water they stopped taking chances.

“We have to go. Listen, follow us in the truck, but stay behind Ronon’s bus; you’ll be safe back there. I’m gonna ride with Rodney.” John tucked the keys in her pocket and gave her a quick kiss. “Okay, let’s move out people.”

John intercepted Rodney on the way to his Jeep, snatching the keys out of his hands. “Thanks, I’ll drive.”

“You’re not in charge here, Sheppard, or have you forgotten that?” Rodney griped but he got into the passenger seat.

John felt a rush of excitement as he pulled out, leading the pack. He could hear the others over his ear piece, sounding equally happy to be on the chase. Ronon, who had a large speaker on top of the Puddlejumper that hooked into his MP3 player, was blaring out AC/DC’s _Thunderstruck_.

 _It’s the wonder of nature, baby!_ the big guy bellowed. John grinned and glanced at Rodney, who looked reluctantly amused. He could also hear Carson and Laura singing _Oklahoma_.

Once the initial rush had ebbed away, the cab of Rodney’s Jeep filled with awkward silence, aside from the tapping Rodney was doing on his tablet. Back in the day he’d been forever telling him to stop reading all the data on the screen and learn how to read it out of the sky.

“So…” John said, and then realized he had no follow-up.

Rodney seemed to cast about for something to say, and then just inclined his head towards the windshield. “Amazing coloring there, huh?”

“We really gonna to talk about the weather?”

“Does she work at the station? Is there where you met her?”

The abrupt change in conversation left John feeling a bit dizzy. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Nancy, especially with Rodney. There had been a time, right before he left, when he’d thought that maybe…but no. He’d freaked out and he’d left and now he was going to have a normal life, and he wasn’t getting into it with the man who’d once been his best friend.

“I don’t want to fight.”

“I’m not fighting, I’m talking. Even you should be able to tell the difference,” Rodney said sourly. “She seems…uh…nice.”

“Oh, please.”

“What? She’s not?”

“I know what you meant,” John said, hands tightening on the wheel. He knew how Nancy must seem to the others, especially the ones that had been there when he’d first joined the team. He knew she came across a little too highbrow – country clubs and brunches instead of down and dirty field work and power bars. He reminded himself that he wasn’t that person anymore.

“You do? Because all I meant was that she seemed nice. Not the kind of woman you’d go for, maybe, but nice.”

“Oh? And what kind of woman would I go for?”

“I don’t know. I imagine leather and tattoos might be involved, though.” Rodney smirked.

“Nice. So the only girl I can get is some kind of loose biker babe?”

“You asked!”

Silence spread between them again, though Rodney seemed to have abandoned his tablet and was just staring out the side window. John knew it couldn’t last; Rodney didn’t do silent treatment very well.

“So what does she do? Or is she just an empty-headed trophy wife that vacuums in pearls?”

John answered reluctantly; it wasn’t that her job was embarrassing, really, except that a lot of the time it was. “She’s…uh…she’s a therapist.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “Yours?”

“For the love of…”

“What?”

“I knew you couldn’t resist!”

“I didn’t say you needed therapy, Sheppard,” Rodney replied heatedly.

“What? I need therapy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I need a therapist?” John knew he should shut his mouth, but his knee-jerk responses had taken control of his logical mind; he was well aware he sounded like a bitchy teenager.

“I didn’t say that.” Rodney’s tone, though, clearly said he’d been thinking it.

“What could I possibly need a therapist for? Come on, Dr. McKay, enlighten me.”

“Right off the top of my head? Your inability to finish things. Rushing into things you can’t quite commit to…”

“Commitment?” John asked incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

“You asked me,” Rodney said petulantly.

“That’s rich, coming from you. You have no idea what commitment means, what it’s like to have stability and supportiveness and…and…”

“And what? You shooting for the whole white picket fence, two and a half kids and a dog thing? I thought you were smarter than that, Sheppard.”

“Damnit, Rodney!”

“Someone should warn her about your temper. She obviously had no idea what she’s getting into.”

“Stay the hell out of it.”

“Hard to do that,” Rodney pointed out. “When you’ve trotted her out to the whole team. Yay for you, you got a pretty girl and a glamorous new job. I’ve got better things to do than stroke your oversized ego.”

“Well, you should know plenty about that, your own ego is enormous.”

They glared at each other before John turned back to watching the road. Rodney sighed, sounding weary all of a sudden.

“You know what? As long as you’re happy…”

“Thank you! I’m happy. I’m a happy person. I’m happy with my life. I’m happy with the way things are _going_ in my life. I’m happy with…with, with…”

“Nancy,” Rodney supplied.

“I know her name!” John sputtered, feeling out of control. Why was he doing this? Rodney had a way of pushing his buttons like no-one else could and he’d obviously fallen out of practice in diffusing that particular game.

“Fine. You keep living in the land of denial, if you’re so all-fired happy to be there.”

John had to fight from shooting another glance at Rodney. What had he meant by that? Did he suspect? He had a moment to panic before talking himself back down. Of course Rodney didn’t know, no-one did. He’d worked hard to keep his growing attraction to the other man to himself, and when he’d been unable to keep up the charade he’d left, walked away. He didn’t care if Rodney thought he was a dick for doing it; he was certain if he’d stayed things would have gone to hell in a spectacular fashion. He had a whole lifetime of experience to support that line of thinking.

 _You two gonna wrap this up pretty soon?_ Lorne asked over the radio.

“What?” John snapped.

_Just wondering if we’re gonna chase this tornado or catch the next one._

“Shit!” Rodney exclaimed. John echoed that sentiment silently. He looked out the passenger side window to see the tornado that was dropping out of the wall cloud just as nice as you please. Time to go to work.

*o*o*o*

“Lorne, is it on the ground?” Rodney was now glued to the tablet, while John kept his eyes on the prize. He gunned the engine and made a left, tires squealing.

“Take it easy, Evel Knievel!”

“You worry about the tornado, I’ll focus on the driving.”

_Can you get ahead of it?_

“Yeah. We’re moving in to intercept, get set up.”

_You got it!_

They passed other cars, honking their horns and flashing their lights in warning. John ignored them, trying not to lose sight of the twister, which was now spinning along on the left in a large field, churning up a cloud of dust and debris. It was beautiful

“You need to get further ahead of it,” Rodney instructed.

“I know what I’m doing.” His focus had narrowed, trying to judge the best way to intercept the tornado.

“Cut across the field.”

“I _know_ I have to get ahead of it.” But it had been a year, a year of driving on regular paved roads in a truck that still had all its shocks, with no particular need to hurry anywhere.

“Will you cut across the damn field already? What’s wrong with you?”

“Do you want to drive?” John challenged, though he knew what the answer would be to that.

“It’s my truck, in case you forgot. So yes. Yes, I would like to drive across the field and get in front of the _damn_ tornado to deploy my _damn_ instrument pack and do some _fucking_ science!”

John’s jaw clenched and he had to stop himself from banging his head on the steering wheel. He’d forgotten how snarky Rodney could be, particularly when things started heating up.

“Go in there! Come on, chop, chop!” He pointed to an irrigation ditch, which looked shallow enough that they could drop in one side. Still, John hesitated.

“Hang on a second.”

Rodney had the gall to laugh at him. “You lost your nerve, didn’t you, weather man?”

 _Challenge accepted_. “Tighten your seatbelt!” He reached over and pulled on it himself. 

John took a deep breath and turned the truck into the irrigation ditch with a lurching bounce. He drove along it, trying to find a good place to pop back out and get ahead of the tornado, which was getting closer; he was fighting the wind now, which wanted to push them backwards. He knew almost instantly when they were screwed. The ditch got deeper, the sides too high for them to get the truck out.

Radek’s voice started squawking in his ear. _Rodney, where are you? We lost visual._

“Having fun yet?” John asked. The Jeep was bouncing, jarring his tailbone and he was starting to think they might be in some trouble. The roar of the wind was getting steadily louder and he was losing visibility.

“We have to get out of here!” And there it was, Rodney’s panic attack right on time. 

“Really? Thanks, I wasn’t aware we were in trouble here.” The sarcasm wasn’t helping. John knew how bad Rodney could get, how freaked out the storms made him, but he didn’t have time to coddle him. 

_Funnel’s getting thicker! It’s moving fast, coming toward you!_

The noise level ratcheted up and chunks of wood filled the air as the tornado took out a barn.

“Oh, no. Oh, no.”

John hazarded a look and saw that Rodney had his eyes squinched shut and was clutching his tablet to his chest. He took his hand off the steering wheel long enough to reach over and give Rodney’s leg a squeeze.

“We’re gonna be fine, buddy.”

_It’s starting to turn!_

_McKay you’re too close, it’s not gonna work. Get out of there!_

John looked in the rearview mirror and saw that the tornado was almost directly behind them. It was so loud now that he couldn’t even hear Rodney mumbling to himself. And then suddenly there it was in front of them, a wooden bridge that spanned the ditch and looked sturdy enough to actually give them a chance.

“Hold on, Rodney!”

John hit the brakes but the Jeep continued to skim forward through the mud until it slammed into the bridge. He popped his seatbelt and Rodney’s too, and they both jumped out. Moving forward against the pull of the wind was like trying to walk through molasses, and John didn’t get very far when he realized Rodney was going the other way, around the back of the Jeep.

“Let’s get her out! Come on, Sheppard, move it!”

Was Rodney seriously trying to deploy Dorothy? With seconds to go before the tornado was on them? Single-minded idiot. He fought the wind and moved around the Jeep until he could grab Rodney’s arm.

“We’re in the damage path, let’s go!” He had to fight the wind _and_ Rodney, but he was able to get to the bridge, pushing Rodney underneath it.

“We can still do this!”

“Shut up and grab hold!”

They wrapped their arms around two of the large and hopefully sturdy bridge supports and just held on. John was only dimly aware of someone talking in his ear; he couldn’t hear who it was or what they were saying. He was pretty sure Rodney was too terrified to do anything but cower now that the tornado was upon them.

For six long seconds the world was reduced to the pull of the wind, the spray of mud and dust, the sting of dirt and debris. John kept his eyes tightly shut and tried to ignore how hard his heart was pounding. Tried to ignore the fear that Rodney might let go and get sucked out from under the bridge. 

And then it was all over. The tornado had roped out even before it hit the bridge, which was probably the only reason they were still alive, and was completely gone by the time John and Rodney crawled out. They were both covered in mud and peppered with little cuts. John kept a hand on Rodney’s shoulder; the other man was trembling, but luckily there was a handy distraction to help get his mind back in the game.

“Where’s my truck?”

John and Rodney stared dumbly at each other for a minute, and then both of them whipped around towards the road when they heard the crunch of metal, the squeal of brakes, and Nancy’s high-pitched scream. The Jeep, which had apparently been sucked up by the tornado, had dropped back to earth in the middle of the road right between the Puddlejumper and John’s truck.

“Oh,” Rodney said. “There it is.”

“Nancy!” John scrambled up out of the ditch and ran. His truck was parked at an angle on the road, narrowly having avoided hitting the Jeep. Ronon got there ahead of him, helping Nancy out and making sure she was okay.

“Johnny! Oh my God!”

Heedless of the fact that he was covered in mud, John pulled Nancy into a tight hug; she wouldn’t be wearing the white pants suit again.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Are you okay?” She touched his face, his chest, shaking and near tears.

“She missed the truck,” Ronon said helpfully.

“I’m fine,” John assured her.

“What happened to you?”

“It was nothing, really,” he lied. “We were perfectly safe.”

Rodney went by, his mud-soaked coveralls unzipped to the waist and flopping as he walked. He shot John a quick look before turning his attention to the ruin of his Jeep.

“Gone.”

“Well, now, just a minute,” Carson said with forced positivity.

“It’s trashed,” Rodney said morosely.

“Let’s just take a look.” Radek poked around what remained of the rear of the Jeep, where Dorothy was still mostly strapped in but completely demolished.

John kept half an ear on the proceedings while he continued to comfort Nancy, whispering over and over that everything was okay. He felt bad for scaring her but he was also a little euphoric – they’d faced down a tornado and lived to tell about it!

Laura contemplated the remains of the Jeep. “Well, technically it flew. What was it like?”

Rodney kicked out a window and reached inside to grab his pack. “It was windy.”

“Wow. You really know how to paint a picture.”

“McKay!” Ronon called out, alerting everyone to the arrival of Kavanagh’s fleet of SUVs.

“Auto club’s here,” Laura said with a frown.

John caught a glimpse of Kavanagh’s amused expression as they drove by, unsurprised that he didn’t stop and offer to help. The team glared at him, all except Ronon who easily paced the slow-moving vehicle and stuck his glowering head in the driver’s side window.

“Fashionably late again, Kavanagh? Sorry you missed the tornado.”

“Guess you’ll have to find another one,” Laura shouted out. “If you give us a few minutes we’ll be underway and you can follow!”

John grinned. “Hey, Carson! I like your girlfriend!”

“Get in line, mate!” Carson called back with a grin, swinging her around. Ronon disengaged from Kavanagh’s SUV, revealing the man’s terrified face, and smacked one big hand on the side of it as it moved away.

Meanwhile, Teyla was carefully collecting the spilled sensors off the side of the road. “Lorne, help me with these please. I will clean them up.”

“I will prep Dorothy Two,” Radek said.

Nancy finally calmed down and had started blotting ineffectually at her ruined outfit. John wandered over to where Rodney was digging through his backpack, which he’d propped up on the mangled Jeep.

“Sorry about the Jeep,” he said.

Rodney pulled out a towel, which he used to wipe his face. “You got full coverage on that truck?”

John knew where that was going. “Liability only.”

“Liability only? That’s not very responsible, Sheppard.”

He shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. No way.”

Of course, he’d never been able to deny Rodney when he gave him that crooked grin, which is why ten minutes later – after pushing the Jeep off the road and calling for a tow – he was behind the wheel of the truck with Rodney in the passenger seat and Nancy on the bench seat behind them, heading for the next interception with Dorothy Two strapped down in the back.

*o*o*o*

John had hoped that in the last year he’d developed an immunity to Rodney, hardened himself against the endearingly twisted mouth and frenetic hand flailing; clearly he’d been deluding himself. He prayed his shiny new truck would live to tell the tale.

Laura’s voice came over the radio. _Waiting for orders, boss._

Both John and Rodney reached toward their ear pieces at the same time, then looked at each other, chagrined.

“Go ahead,” John said.

“It’s your truck,” Rodney replied with a half shrug like he didn’t care; John knew he did.

“It’s your team, Rodney. I’m just here for the ride-along.”

He didn’t need further convincing. “The battle zone should be northeast of eighty-one.”

_Copy that._

Nancy leaned forward. “Wait a minute. Battle zone? What are we doing?”

“This storm is likely to drop another tornado,” John explained. “We need to catch up with it and try for another deployment.”

“Again? But back there you almost got yourself killed!”

John reached back with one arm and patted her awkwardly on the leg. “It was just a close call. Don’t worry.”

 _You’re gonna cross fifteen on Oklahoma four-one-two. Four-one-two._ Lorne’s directions came over the earpiece.

“Copy that,” Rodney said, back to tapping at his tablet. “Teyla, what’s on the Mesonet?”

_Winds continuing to back, VILs are at…sixty._

“We’re going after it. Stay close, everyone.”

The chase was on again. John knew they were lucky – most days you only had one chance at catching a tornado, but with the storms stacked up like they were today they stood a better chance of actually getting the job done. Storm chasers got used to disappointment – it was the nature of the beast – but that didn’t mean they had to like it.

John thought they were setting a nice, steady pace until Rodney leaned over and looked at the speedometer with a dramatic sigh.

“Fifty? Really? Old ladies in wheelchairs are pacing you right now.”

John scowled at him but pressed his foot to the accelerator and hoped he didn’t freak Nancy out too much; she was always telling him not to drive so fast. They went around a bend in the road and came up behind a familiar line of black SUVs.

“There’s your pal,” Rodney snorted. “Jackhole.”

John accelerated even more, pulling around the caravan on the right until he was even with the pace car. He and Kavanagh glared at each other, and he was seconds away from infantile hand gestures when the weather grabbed his attention and he slammed on the brakes, looking up through the windshield.

“What the hell are you doing, trying to give me whiplash?”

“Johnny, what…”

He ignored both of them. “Look at the updraft, the angle. It’s gonna shift it’s track.”

Rodney craned his neck to look at what John was looking at, and he slapped the dashboard. “You’re right. Damn! It’s a sidewinder!”

“Is that bad?” Nancy asked.

“Wasn’t there a road back there?” John was already turning the truck around even as he asked the question.

“Yeah, go, go, go!” Rodney tapped his earpiece. “We’re flipping a bitch and heading back to a cutoff. Watch for us!”

Just then Nancy’s cell phone rang, the classical tones loud. “Dr. Carmichael…Donald, now’s not a very good time for me, okay? What…all right, put Julia on. Okay.”

“We’re close,” John said, his eyes on the sky more than on the road. Behind him Nancy was muttering _yes_ and _uh-huh_ over and over. He’d really grown to hate that cell phone, because she had no concept of regular office hours and would take client calls at the most inopportune moments.

Rodney looked out the window. “Lorne, tell me what road we’re on. Where does this take us? Surely those GPS things must be worth something, the way you begged for them.”

_Hang on, McKay. I have to wait for the GPS to recalibrate. Come on, come on. What is this, Bob’s road?_

John bit back a grin, and Nancy’s voice filled the silence while they waited on Lorne’s technology. “I know it feels unnatural, but with Donald’s motility you’re not going to have this baby the old-fashioned way. Even if you stand on your head.”

Rodney gave John a startled look, and John flushed. “She’s a…uh…reproductive therapist.”

There was a suspicious twitch to his mouth, and then he went back to harassing his minions. “Carson? Stop fooling around with that girl and tell me what’s on the satellite. We’ve got to get ahead of this storm.”

Nancy ended her call but kept the phone clutched in her hand. John thought about offering her some words of reassurance, but he wasn’t sure he could come up with anything that didn’t sound condescending or like a complete lie.

_Geez, Rodney. The tornado is south, shifting south. It’s looking like an EF2, possible an EF3._

_Radio chatter has a very large rope on the ground_ , Ronon put in.

 _It looks to be turning_ , Teyla said. _The atmosphere is very unstable._

John had a clear visual and they were right, there was a powerful looking funnel on the ground ahead of them.

“We got it, we got it!” Rodney crowed over the radio.

The sky had darkened dramatically and the rain was now coming down in sheets that the windshield wipers were doing little to keep up with. John had to keep both hands on the wheel to keep the truck from drifting. He tapped his radio.

“We’re getting slammed in here, guys, you better hang back.”

_Copy that. Keep your eyes on the prize._

Rodney scowled at Carson’s comment. He pulled a digital camera out of his bag, preparing to document, but he paused in the act of opening the window.

“Rainbands,” he said.

“What’s that?” Nancy asked.

Rodney pointed. “Look at the surf coming off those fields.”

“Shit! Horizontal rain. Hang on!” John floored it, heading directly towards a causeway that spanned a large lake. The tornado moved with them, sucking up water now instead of dirt and debris. The noise level was tremendous and they had to shout to be heard.

“This is nuts, John! I’ve never seen anything like this!”

“I don’t think anybody has.” 

The tornado was now on their left, paralleling the road they were driving on. John wasn’t sure if it was going to cross over or not, and was worried they wouldn’t be able to outrun it if it did.

“I think…shit. Shit! Multi-vortexes!” A second funnel appeared, moving around the first one. “We’re right under the flanking line!”

“Thanks, Rodney, I can see that!”

“Pardon me for trying to avoid getting rolled! We have to get out of here!”

It was getting harder for John to control the truck, much less see where the hell he was going, and the end of the causeway seemed suddenly very, very far away. All thoughts ceased for a moment as a cow was carried across the road by the winds; John couldn’t be sure but it seemed to still be alive.

“Cow,” Rodney said helpfully.

“Holy Jesus!” Nancy shouted from the backseat.

John yanked his attention back to the problem at hand. “We’ve got drunkards, there’s no path.”

“This is not good, John, not good. Get us out of here!”

“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do, play chicken with them?”

“There’s chickens too?” Nancy had her arm wrapped around John’s headrest, which wasn’t very comfortable for him but he wasn’t about to tell her to back off.

“Floor it!” Rodney barked, hands braced on the dashboard.

John shook his head, hitting the brakes instead; it was too late to try and outrun the twisters, which now numbered three. The truck started to slide in the mud and wind, and he twisted the wheel, doing his best to keep them out of the lake as the storm howled around them.

“Hang on!” he bellowed. He could hear Nancy screaming, saw Rodney’s mouth moving, felt his own heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. The truck did several three-sixties and then in the next moment the wind had died back down and the tornadoes were gone, leaving them more or less pointed in the same direction they’d started out. John and Rodney shared a look and then they were both out of the truck.

“That was awesome!” John hooted, slapping Rodney on the back.

“That’s one word for it,” Rodney replied, two spots of color flaming on his cheekbones. “I can’t believe we didn’t get blown off the bridge. Or blown away altogether. Did you see that fucking _cow?_ ”

Now that the danger was over Rodney was getting into the spirit of things, his eyes alight and his veins probably thrumming with adrenalin. He and John grinned at each other like idiots; John felt himself warming the way he always had under the force of that smile. 

“Johnny?” Nancy was getting out of the truck, very slowly, and she looked shocky. He immediately felt chagrined for forgetting her and abandoned Rodney.

“Are you okay? It’s all over now.”

The rest of the team rolled up and Rodney strutted over to Carson’s blue minivan. “Did you see that? Tornadoes spun us around like a top!”

John had to hide his grin in the face of Nancy’s distress. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“No, it’s _not_ okay! This is _not_ okay! Okay?” Her voice broke and he felt incredibly guilty. He’d forgotten what it was like, in the middle of the chase, and had to remind himself that Nancy didn’t have that background; she was a therapist, accustomed to sitting behind a desk all day, and she hadn’t signed up for the crazy the way John had.

“Nancy, I’m really sorry. I didn’t think.”

She sniffled, bravely fighting tears. “You know, when you used to tell me you chased tornadoes? Deep down I always thought it was a metaphor.”

“Did you see the inflow jets on those babies?” Lorne asked, clapping John on the back.

“We were sitting right in the middle of it!” Rodney said.

Radek frowned and examined Dorothy Two. “Let’s hope you did not damage device.”

“It is too bad you could not activate Dorothy when conditions were so favorable.” Teyla leaned against Carson’s minivan. 

“Yes, well, it would’ve been pointless; the tornadoes were short-lived. We need to get those sensors in something bigger, something that isn’t going to rope out after less than a minute on the ground.”

“We cannot afford the pickiness, Rodney,” Radek muttered from the back of John’s truck.

Rodney glowered. “I didn’t put all this time and effort in on the Dorothy project to just throw it in front of any little tornado. It has to count.”

Ronon chose that moment to step in, his sheer size usually enough to intimidate Rodney into silence, at least momentarily. “We’re close to Wakita.”

“No.”

“Aww, c’mon Rodney!” Carson chimed in. “Surely Aunt Vee wouldn’t mind a wee pit stop.”

“No!”

“We crave sustenance,” Lorne said, clutching his stomach dramatically. “Red meat, Rodney.”

“You know she probably has fresh bread, too.” Laura got a dreamy look in her eye. “Or maybe even a peach pie.”

Rodney’s team knew how to properly motivate him, always had. John couldn’t help laughing; it had always been this way and Rodney’s protestations wouldn’t amount for much in the face of his own hunger.

“Well, it _has_ been a while since I ate.”

“You must think of your hypoglycemia,” Teyla said helpfully. “This will surely be a long day and you need to keep your strength up.”

Rodney looked pleadingly at John, who just shrugged. “Sure would be nice to see Vee.”

A cheer went up when Rodney sighed his defeat. In less than five minutes they were on their way to Wakita.

*o*o*o*

There was a time when John was a frequent guest at Aunt Vee’s house, particularly in the off-season. She had raised Rodney after the death of his parents and the two were very close; well, as close as Rodney got to anyone. They were an odd pair, him with his science and algorithms and Vee with her art sculptures, but somehow it worked.

In a way, Rodney was lucky to have her raising him during his formative years. Vee was very open-minded – she never married but also never kept it a secret when she hooked up with men. She let Rodney have his space, she never tried to dissuade him from a career in meteorology, and she threw him a party when he told her he was gay.

She lived in a big old farmhouse right off of Main Street, and used the detached garage as her workshop. Vee dabbled in several different kinds of art, but around Wakita she was well known for her metal sculptures. There were several in the yard, all of them moving in the gentle breeze – one like a Ferris wheel, which was always John’s favorite, and a new one that spiraled down to a narrow point like a funnel cloud; that one had chimes attached that rang out whenever the cupped arms moved.

When they pulled up, ranging out at the edge of the lawn, Vee was in the doorway of the garage giving instructions to a man in a welder’s mask. She was a heavyset woman who preferred long skirts and lots of chunky silver jewelry. She looked up when the caravan arrived, her broad face breaking into a wide smile that only got larger when she caught sight of John.

“Vee!” He got out of the truck and helped Nancy out as well, grabbing her hand and dragging her along next to him. “Vee, how are you?” 

“Johnny! It’s so good to see you!”

He caught her up in a big bear hug, noting more gray in her dark brown hair and a few more lines around her eyes. John had never been very close with his own family and had always considered Vee as much his aunt as Rodney’s.

She pulled back and patted him fondly on the cheek. “Day before yesterday I was telling Rodney how _much_ I miss you! You haven’t seen any of my new work...”

“Not sure we have time for a tour, Vee,” Rodney said as he came trudging over. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and looked him over with a critical eye.

“You’ve seen some action today.”

“Yes I have, and the next bit of action I get is going to be in the form of a shower.” He headed into the house, and Vee was accosted by Lorne, Carson and Ronon; the latter who picked her up and swung her around while she giggled like a young girl.

“Boys!”

Benny, Vee’s gangly black Lab mix, ran around in happy circles, barking and chasing his tail. John left it to the others to do the begging for food. He grabbed the suitcase he and Nancy were sharing out of the backseat and carried it inside. He let Nancy grab a change of clothes and pointed her to the downstairs bathroom where she could get washed up. He grabbed his own clothes and took the stairs two at a time. Rodney was almost at the bathroom door and John edged around him with a big smile.

“Guests first!” he said, zipping into the bathroom and shutting the door on Rodney’s outraged face.

“You bastard! If you use all the hot water I will filet you like a fish!”

“Empty threats,” John called back through the closed door. “We all know you don’t touch fish.”

He drowned out the rest of Rodney’s grumbling by turning the shower on, setting it nice and hot. It felt good to wash off the mud, though he knew his chances of staying this clean by the end of the day were slim to none. It was the nature of the chase, as was the ability to enjoy a shower whenever the chance arose.

The voices of his friends could be heard from downstairs, a pleasant murmuring too distant to make out actual words. John had missed it, enough so that it made him feel vaguely achy. Being part of Rodney’s team was the first place he felt he belonged after he got out of the Air Force; they’d accepted him, taken him in, taught him everything they knew. It wasn’t the same in Wichita. _Rodney_ wasn’t in Wichita.

Suddenly needing to be with his old friends, John cut his shower short. By the time he got downstairs people were already digging into Vee’s t-bone steaks and mashed potatoes, with the gravy that was almost good enough to eat by itself. Which was pretty much the same thing Ronon was explaining to Nancy as he slathered gravy over everything on her plate; she looked a little sick.

“Shower’s free.”

“About damn time,” Rodney muttered, pushing past him, plate of food in his hand. Vee held out a plate similarly weighted down with beef to John, who sighed.

“I really want that.” He sat in an empty spot at the table and dug in.

Rodney only made it as far as the TV on his quest for cleanliness. “How can you watch this garbage?”

John looked over and saw Kavanagh being interviewed on one of the local news stations. “Oh, you guys gotta see this.” He carried his plate with him to the other room and turned up the volume on the TV, slouching in the doorway and eating.

Lorne snickered at the reporter conducting the interview. “Careful, buddy. He’ll steal your microphone.”

_Well, for me, it’s the thrill of the hunt. Man versus nature. Battling with the elements._

Laura booed loudly.

_So as a scientist, can you actually predict tornadoes now?_

“What they hell did they do, import her from Alaska?” Rodney shook his head. “No real reporter from Oklahoma would ask such a stupid question.”

_Well, no, they’re very, very unpredictable, as some of my more unfortunate colleagues found out earlier today._

“Turn him off, please,” Teyla said, her mouth puckered in distaste.

_But we hope to change all that with a system I’ve devised._

“He sucks,” Ronon said.

“Turn it off.”

“Boo!”

John switched off the TV. “What an ass.”

“He really is in love with himself.” Rodney finished choking down his lunch and passed the empty plate to Laura, who was in the process of doing some cleanup. “I thought it was just a summer thing.”

Everyone gathered back around the table, where several pies had materialized in their absence. Laura kissed Vee.

“If I wasn’t with Carson I’d move in here.”

Vee just grinned and tossed a handful of dessert forks on the table.

Ronon settled into a chair and kicked his feet up on the one next to him. “We’ll beat him. He’s no match for you, Sheppard. No-one is.”

“I drink to that!” Radek toasted him with a tall glass of iced tea.

Nancy picked at her mashed potatoes. “Why can’t he beat Johnny?”

Vee settled in at the table as well, with a mug of coffee John knew also contained a splash of whisky. “Johnny’s a human barometer. It’s like the storms talk to him. I’ve seen it.”

“It’s more than that,” Lorne said. “He’s like…crazy. In a good way.”

“We were chasing a storm near Dalton.” Ronon got a predatory look on his face; he loved a new audience.

“You need to get new stories,” Rodney said sourly. John turned to watch as he finally headed up for his shower.

“We’re way too close,” Ronon continued. “And Rodney’s got vid on it – he’s filming it, right? All of a sudden, out of nowhere, this shitty looking Chevy comes pulling up, right in the way.”

Radek picked up the story. “Rodney is yelling. A stranger comes from the car with bottle of Jack Daniels.”

“Naked,” Ronon interjected. 

Nancy’s eyes were wide and John felt himself flushing. It was a stupid story, but it’d become part of the team mythology.

“Buck naked,” Lorne said even though that was before he joined the team.

“He’s without clothes.”

“Half naked,” John said in his own defense, laughing along with the others. The truth of it was that he had no clear memory of that day – how he got to the tornado, why he was naked, and how he got back to the hotel that the team was using.

“Naked,” Lorne reiterated.

Radek took over again, eyes gleaming wickedly behind his glasses. “Rodney yells to him, tells him to move. John walks up to tornado, like walking in park, and throws bottle into it.” He mimed the action.

“Bottle never hit the ground,” Ronon said. “Twister sucked it up.”

Nancy was practically gaping at John by the time the story was over. He imagined it might be hard to reconcile the straight-laced weather man with the crazy, drunken naked guy who had no fear of a tornado. The rest of the team looked at him expectantly, so he said his line with as much dramatic flair as he could muster.

“And that’s why I don’t drink Jack Daniels anymore.”

Everyone roared with laughter, and Ronon clapped him on the back with one huge hand. It was a funny story, but it hadn’t been a funny time in his life, John remembered that well enough. He’d been at loose ends, drinking to forget the friends he’d lost in Afghanistan on that last mission, the one that had gone so fucking wrong. Rodney and the team had saved his life that day, gave him back a purpose, engaged his mind and given him a new way to feel the rush of flying; he’d always owe them for that.

The conversation turned towards work, as they reviewed the tornadoes they’d seen that day. The pies were quickly getting demolished and Nancy just sat and listened, clearly trying to understand.

“That was a good sized twister,” Laura said. “What was that? EF3?”

John shook his head. “Solid EF2.”

“You’ve lost me,” Nancy said almost apologetically.

John leaned forward, elbows on the table. “It’s the Enhanced Fujita Scale. It measures the intensity of a tornado by how much it eats.”

“Eats?” 

“Destroys.” Part of the team’s job was to do damage surveys following a tornado in populated areas. It was often a heart-breaking experience, seeing how one storm could ruin lives and destroy towns. It was the one thing he hadn’t missed when he left.

“Have you looked at the radar?” Laura asked. “I bet we see some EF4s today.”

“That would be very good.” Teyla sipped at a cup of tea. “That is the storm we need for deployment.”

“Four is good,” Lorne said. “Four will relocate your house fairly efficiently.”

“Is there a five?” Nancy asked, to a suddenly silent room. “What would that be like?”

“Finger of God,” Radek murmured.

“Have any of you ever seen one?”

Everyone looked at John, who reflexively looked up; he could hear the shower still running. “Just one of us.”

*o*o*o*

The team was packing up when Laura ran in with a radio. “We’ve got one! EF3, a mile outside Parlaine!”

_… this is a storm that has developed in the past fifteen minutes. First Alert Doppler radar shows that this is a very intense storm…_

Everyone scrambled after that, gathering up their things and popping their earpieces back in. John walked Nancy down the front porch steps.

“I want you to ride with Ronan, is that okay?”

“Okay.” Clearly she’d realized that riding up front wasn’t the safest option.

“What’s the word from NSSL?” Ronan asked.

“The word is _big_ ,” Teyla replied with a grin.

John clapped his hands together. “All right, people, let’s go!”

Rodney trotted outside with a large paper bag, no doubt full of leftovers and possibly everything else Vee had in her fridge. “Where the hell is Kavanagh? Does anyone know?”

Lorne nodded. “I think he’s in Milston, thirty miles out from the storm.”

“Well, then we need to get moving, don’t we. Go! Go! Can we beat him?”

“I’m on it!” Lorne called. He consulted the varied GPS units on his dashboard.

Vee gave Rodney a hug. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Sorry to eat and run.” Rodney was only ever that apologetic with his aunt, unless the circumstances were incredibly extreme.

John gave her a quick kiss as he hurried past. “Bye!”

“Good to see you, Johnny. Don’t be a stranger!”

Rodney was already waiting next to John’s truck, hand out and fingers snapping. “Keys.”

“Magic word,” John replied with a smirk. Rodney just scowled and snatched them from his hand, getting into the driver’s seat.

“You’re welcome,” he said sarcastically. 

It took less than a minute for everyone to be in their vehicles and ready to go. Rodney tapped his earpiece. “Lorne?”

_Yeah, got it Rodney. We go right through Wakita, and take Myers Road past the fire station. From there, one-thirty-two to forty-four east._

“If you know any shortcuts, let us know,” John said. “We need every second.”

Rodney pulled out, tapping his horn a couple times for Vee. He kept studiously to the speed limit as they drove through Wakita but John knew as soon as they hit the outskirts of town he’d get a lead foot; he’d been known to drive with a scary disregard for his own personal safety sometimes, all in the name of catching the right storm. Which was saying a lot coming from a man who’d screamed with unbridled joy the first time he broke the sound barrier.

“What do you have, Lorne?”

_About a mile up there’s a little detour. We’re gonna take a walk in the woods!_

The road wasn’t much to speak of, more unpaved tractor trail than anything else; John wept for his shocks. He tapped back on the earpiece. “It’s bumpy here, people, so be careful.”

Carson’s voice came on, full of excitement. _See, kids? An ordinary person spends his life avoiding tense situations._

Ronon finished the quote with a war whoop. _Repo man spends his life getting into tense situations!_

John shared an amused look with Rodney. It didn’t take much to get the team revved up and ready for a chase, and they’d always encouraged a bit of silliness to temper the seriousness of what they could be facing. He and Rodney had made an excellent pair, once upon a time. Until John freaked out. He shook off that line of thinking, which was extremely unproductive.

“Lorne, what’ve you got?”

_Turn left toward that farm._

“You sure about that?”

_Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong?_

John rolled his eyes. It probably wasn’t the best time to bring up Arnett or the whole Nebraska fiasco. Rodney made the left, easing up on the gas because they were driving right through someone’s corn field.

“This is a _field_ , Lorne!”

_I know. Keep going, beyond it. Right through that brush. You see that brush right in front of you?_

“Yeah, we see the brush. What’s beyond that?”

_Beyond what?_

Rodney sputtered. “ _Beyond what?_ Beyond the _brush_ , you ignoramous! A brick wall, a bearded lady, what?”

_Oh. Uh…it’s the highway! It’s the highway!_

John strained his eyes but all he could see was corn, more corn, and a wall of greenery. “Where’s the road?”

“We’re not here to film Children of the Corn!” Rodney shouted. “You are _so_ fired!”

_It should be any moment…_

Just like that they were through the thick brush and on the highway, merging hastily into a lane already filled with Kavanagh’s SUV convoy. There followed much honking of horns, cursing, and rude gestures until John’s team had pulled ahead of Kavanagh’s. The man’s angry voice crackled over the CB radio.

_You’re insane, McKay! Are you trying to get someone killed?_

Rodney grabbed for the radio, fumbling it for a moment before he could respond. “Oh really, Kavanagh? It was so nice of you to stop back there and make sure we were all okay! It was very considerate of you! How could you see people on the side of the road and not stop, you worthless…”

John snatched the radio and hung it back up. “Let’s keep the channel clear.”

“Jackhole,” Rodney muttered.

There was no sense trying to talk to him when Kavanagh got him all riled up, so John kept his eyes on the storm. He eyeballed the wall cloud, taking in the rotation, the inflow bands, and just generally opening himself up to the _feel_ of it all.

“We’re gonna have to get off this road.”

Rodney shot him a look. “This is no time for guessing.”

“I’m not guessing. Just make the next right.” John sighed when it looked like Rodney was going to fight him on this. “Would you trust me please?”

“Sheppard…”

“Just turn!”

With a frown, Rodney made the sharp right while Kavanagh’s caravan continued going straight. He looked like he wanted to make a rude comment but then Carson’s voice was coming over the ear piece.

_We’ve got a touchdown! Tornado is on the ground!_

“Where?” John demanded.

_Looks like it’s coming down Route 33._

“Sheppard, we’re on thirty-three.”

John craned his head, trying to see as much as he could out the window. “What’s the path?”

 _It is going about thirty-five miles an hour_ , Teyla reported.

“Do you see it?” Rodney asked. John shook his head.

“Direction, Lorne!”

_North, northeast._

“I don’t see it!” Rodney snapped.

_North, northeast. Do you copy?_

“Shit! It’s coming right at us!”

Carson was back. _She’s gone vertical. Repeat, gone vertical. She’s gainin’ strength, lads._

“Do you see it?” Rodney was starting to sound like a broken record.

“No.” John tapped the earpiece. “Carson, we don’t have a visual. Repeat, we do _not_ have a visual.”

“Where the hell is it?” The wall cloud was immense, but their view kept getting blocked by terrain.

 _The motion is incredible, John_ , Teyla said. _The base looks to be half a mile wide._

“Lorne?”

_It should be coming right over that hill in a matter of minutes!_

John continued to search the horizon. “It’s gotta be there.”

“Maybe it’s stalled,” Rodney suggested.

“No, I think Lorne’s right. It’s gonna show its ugly face right over that hill. What do you think?”

 _You gonna go for it, McKay?_ Ronon asked.

John could see the moment he decided, his chin coming up and his back straightening; Rodney was getting ready for battle.

“Time for deployment, guys. Let’s go!”

A look in the side mirror showed that the rest of the group was dropping back; they’d find a place to pull off and get set up to collect the data from the sensors, provided Dorothy could be successfully deployed. The sky ahead of them continued to darken and pretty soon chunks of ice began pinging off the hood of the truck.

“We’ve got hail,” he told Rodney.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Guys, we’ve got hail. Quarter to golf ball.”

John took a moment to mourn the paint job on his truck. The large hailstones were doing plenty of damage, leaving behind deep dents. One especially big one cracked the corner of the windshield on the passenger side, and he flinched reflexively. 

“Okay?” Rodney asked.

“Yeah. Carson, we’ve got upflow. Copy?”

_Copy that. I’m checking it, it’s almost up!_

“This is it, John.” Rodney gave him an intense look, and he was easily able to interpret it. It was time to make their long-time dream a reality; time to make Dorothy fly.

“I’ll get her ready.” He slid open the back window and slithered through it, wincing as hail battered down on him. He worked quickly, flipping on a series of switches before getting back in the passenger seat. 

“Oh, God, you’re bleeding!”

“Relax, Rodney. It’s nothing.” Which was mostly true, though no less painful. He’d have some nice bruises on his arms by the end of the day.

 _That’s no moon, it’s a space station!_ Lorne shouted gleefully.

The hail ended, but it was replaced by debris. Nothing small, either, but incongruous stuff like a kayak and some kid’s trike, which slammed against the side of the truck.

“Debris!” Rodney shouted into the ear piece. “We have debris! Are you guys set up? We’re not leaving till we get this!”

_They’re in the bear cage!_

“This is fine, Rodney! Stop here!”

“No, we have to get closer, just a little closer.” His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel but he was determined as always. Then his eyes went wide as a small motorboat went flying past them.

“Rodney, stop!”

“You’re right. You’re right. Close enough.” He slammed on the brakes and John braced himself on the dashboard to keep from hitting his head. As soon as the truck was stopped they both got out. “Hurry, get the tailgate!”

“Is she ready?”

“Yeah, she’s all set, help me get her down. Let’s move!”

The funnel, dark with dirt and debris, was headed their way. There was some kind of explosion – likely a power transformer caught in the storm – at the base of it, which made Rodney flinch.

“Hurry up, Sheppard!”

John was trying to remove Dorothy from the back of the truck, but one of the straps was caught up on something. They were out of time.

“Damn! We gotta go, Rodney. Now!”

“We can do this, come on! Don’t quit on me now!”

John grabbed Rodney by his shoulders and turned him. “Look! It’s pulling the power lines down! We can’t stay here!” The lines were sagging and sparks were literally flying as the poles were sucked up in the air one after another. The one nearest them started shaking in its moorings.

“Get down!” He bellowed, knocking into Rodney and taking them both to the asphalt. The pole came crashing down, right onto the bed of the truck. There was a shower of sparks as it slid, knocking Dorothy off the back. The instrument pack crashed to the road and the lid popped open, scattering the sensors.

“No!” Rodney screamed in frustration.

John looked up, expecting to see the funnel cloud, but there was no sign of it at all. “Where the hell is it?”

_What’s the Doppler say?_

_What the hell?_

Carson sounded morose. _It’s over, guys. The thing was stable, and then…well, it’s just gone._

John got to his feet and hauled Rodney up with him. The sky overhead was still dark, and there was still visible rapid rotation.

“It’s back-building,” Rodney said. He repeated it for the benefit of the team. “We’ve got to track it!” 

_We know, Rodney_ , Carson said. _Data’s incomplete. I think you should get out of there. Copy?_

But Rodney didn’t answer; he was scrabbling along the road, picking up the sensors. “Help me, Sheppard!”

“We need to leave, Rodney.”

“No, no, no. We’re too close. Help me!”

“Forget the damn sensors! We have to get out of here now! It’s gonna drop!”

“Carson’s on it! He’ll see if it drops anywhere near us. He’ll…”

“It’s not gonna drop anywhere near us, it’s gonna drop right _on_ us!” He pulled Rodney away, making him drop the sensors he’d gathered up. “Get your ass in the truck!”

“Stop strong-arming me! We’re not giving up!”

John ignored him, pushing him bodily into the driver’s seat and over the console, following him in. He immediately put the truck in gear before Rodney could get back out, driving backwards away from the tornado; he accidentally sideswiped Dorothy, knocking it to the side of the road.

“Go back! Go back! It’s not too late!”

The tornado dropped back down in front of them, but it soon swung to the left, leaving the road and moving off. John stopped the truck as soon as they were safely away, and Rodney was out before he even had it in park. He went right back to collecting sensors.

“I _knew_ you wouldn’t help me, you asshole!”

“What are you doing?” John got out of the truck. They were catching the edge of the storm now, the heavy rainfall quickly soaking them.

“I’m not giving up!”

“Rodney, the pack’s wasted, it’s over. We can’t save this one!”

“What the _hell_ is the matter with you?” Rodney threw down the sensors. John could read the emotions on his face so well – anger and crushing disappointment.

“Jesus, Rodney, you’re obsessed! Do you know how crazy you look right now?”

“Don’t you fucking talk to me about obsessed!” Rodney shoved him, hard. “You don’t understand, _none_ of you do! I need to _know!_ ”

“What, Rodney? What they hell do you need to know this bad?” John knew he was pushing, in a way he’d never felt comfortable doing before. Maybe it was the time he’d spent away, the perspective he’d gained, or perhaps it was just the fear that if Rodney kept going on the way he was he’d seriously hurt himself. Or worse.

“I need to know why I’m _alive!_ ” Rodney shouted, sounding distraught. “All those people, John! My parents! Jeannie! Why _me?_ Why did I survive when no-one else did?”

John couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear to hear him so anguished. He’d always known that this was what drove Rodney, a kind of survivor’s guilt that pushed him to make sense of it all using the structure of algorithms and equations, a cage of logic to trap a random force of nature. He said the words he’d been running from for the last year, and hoped it would be enough.

“You want to know why you survived? I’ll tell you, asshole! You _had_ to, because I needed you! I _still_ need you!”

Rodney just stared at him, chest heaving and hands clenched into fists. Rain ran down his face, into his eyes, but he didn’t look away. John stared right back, willing him to believe, to understand. In the end, Rodney’s expression shut down and he was the one to turn away.

“Let’s clean up our mess and get the hell out of here.”

John could’ve stopped him, made him acknowledge what had been said, but he just sighed and helped collect up the sensors and put battered Dorothy Two back in the truck.

*o*o*o*

There was no more action to be had by the time darkness fell, at least not safely, and the team found themselves encamped at a motel that was directly adjacent to both an auto body garage and a drive-in theater. They were enjoying some downtime, getting their equipment squared away, eating less-than-healthy snacks from the concession stand, and rehashing the events of the day.

John had left Nancy in the motel room and was just wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out how things had gone so sideways. Two days ago he’d been the voice of Wichita’s weather, going out to dinner with Nancy and her friends, and generally feeling fairly content with his life. He’d almost convinced himself he was happy.

As usual, Rodney had thrown him off his game. Just as he had a year ago, when John realized that his feelings for the man were more than just friendly. They’d spent inordinate amounts of time together, even outside the lab; chess games, Star Trek marathons, weekends with Aunt Vee. Eventually he’d started to imagine having more, wondering what it would be like to kiss Rodney, or hold his hand, or share the same bed with intent rather than necessity while on the road. That had been enough to send him running, because John had always considered himself to be a red-blooded, heterosexual man; he’d never before been physically attracted to another man.

Now that he’d had some distance, John knew the truth wasn’t that he was attracted to men – it was that he was attracted to _Rodney_. Rodney, with his acerbic personality and single-minded focus and fears of the dark. Rodney, with his brilliant brain and his strong hands and his ability to see brilliance in others that might otherwise have gone unnoticed. Of course, having all of this information didn’t help at all. Rodney didn’t want him, and John had responsibilities back in Wichita, not the least of which was Nancy.

“Seven coffees.”

Rodney was at the concession stand, and John wandered over to join him. The big screen behind them was showing The Shining, and it was warm enough that lots of people were lying out on top of their cars.

“Two coffees, please.” He turned towards Rodney. “Long day.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ve been thinking about the sensors. The way they scattered out there today on the highway. I’m starting to wonder if the funnel will carry them like we thought.” He kicked himself again for leaving before the project had been completed; this was something that he would’ve thought of back in the testing phase.

“Too light?” Rodney asked. His voice gave nothing away; he could’ve been discussing pork futures or the value of all-weather tires.

“Don’t know. Maybe the whole thing’s too light.”

“How do you suggest we fix that?”

John shrugged. “I’m not sure. Give me some time to think about it.”

“Take all the time you need.” Rodney’s coffees were ready and he accepted the two cardboard carry trays, but paused for a moment. John held out some money to pay for them when he saw what Rodney was looking at – the little TV behind the counter, which had been playing some kind of slasher movie, had gone to static.

Rodney carelessly dropped the trays on the nearest picnic table and turned in a slow circle, looking up though there was nothing to see but darkness; cloud cover was hiding the night sky. The wind, which had been gently blowing, suddenly picked up and John could feel it prickling all along his skin. Thunder rumbled, and he turned towards the north, eyes straining to see in the darkness.

The moment was broken by Ronon, who came running from the garage where he’d parked the Puddlejumper. “McKay! Sheppard! It’s coming! It’s headed right for us!”

John felt his stomach drop. “It’s already here. Everybody underground! _Now!_ ”

As if on cue the tornado sirens started to sound, and Nancy came running. John grabbed her hand and headed for the garage. The wind whipped up even more, blowing paper and Styrofoam containers around. There was a definite rumbling now, a muted roar that he was all too familiar with, and he looked over his shoulder to see Rodney still standing there, transfixed.

“Rodney! _McKay!_ Come on!”

That seemed to snap him out of it. He ran to the concession stand and banged on the window to warn the girls behind the counter. “Get underground! Take cover right now!”

People were panicking and screaming, but most of them seemed to be following John to the garage, where Ronon was holding the door open for him. He handed Nancy off and turned back for Rodney.

“Sheppard!” Ronon shouted.

“Move it, Rodney!” John called out, his heart in his throat. Tornadoes were dangerous enough without having one come under cover of darkness; there was no way to track it. Lightning flashed, leaving the afterimage of a large stovepipe tornado burned on his retinas. This was bad.

Rodney stopped to grab a wayward teenager, dragging her along with him. John shoved them both through the doors and then helped Ronon secure them.

“Everybody down in the pit! Get down, everybody down! Move, Rodney, goddamn it!” He herded everyone down into the bay beneath the auto lifts and had them all sit on the concrete floor. 

The wind was deafening and the sides of the garage began to shake. All of the windows imploded simultaneously and John curled himself over Nancy, shielding her as best he could. She was screaming, but her cries of distress were no match for the cacophony of the storm. Whole sections of the sheet metal roofing lifted off or swung down. Hubcaps started sailing through the air like deadly Frisbees and John glanced up just in time to see one glance off Radek’s forehead.

Rodney was at his side immediately, using his hand to apply pressure to the shallow slice in the skin that was already sending sheets of blood down Radek’s white, shocked face. John could see Rodney’s lips moving but couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“It’ll be over soon!” John shouted.

“This is insane!” Nancy screamed, her mouth next to his ear. “This is insane! I don’t like this! I can’t do this anymore!”

“Stay calm!”

“Fuck you!”

Lorne’s Subaru was blown through the wall of the garage like a missile, where it fetched up against the metal railing surrounding the pit. John hunched over, still trying to protect Nancy, but though the railing bent under the pressure and weight, it held the car from dropping on their heads. There was more noise as the drive-in sign, still partially lit, swung in through the roof like a pendulum; the momentum carried it right on through and out the other side.

After that it was all over. The winds died down as the lights flickered and then went out. Small pieces of wood and paper drifted down on them, and the sudden silence was deafening. Someone switched on a flashlight they’d had the presence of mind to bring along and handed it to John, who helped direct everyone back out of the garage.

The drive-in was a complete loss, just a pile of debris and mangled cars. The motel was mostly untouched, though the garage sustained heavy damage. With the exception of Lorne’s car, the rest of the team vehicles survived the tornado mostly intact. The whole team stood around in a tight cluster, unnerved but relieved. Rodney had taken off his t-shirt, which Radek kept pressed to his head.

“You okay, buddy?” John asked him.

“Flesh wound,” Radek joked weakly.

Nancy was shaken, her face still pinched with fear, but she was visibly trying to pull herself together. “Is that what it was like up on that hill?”

Lorne shook his head. “That? No. We were lucky – those were just downdrafts and micro bursts. Tornado side-swiped us.”

Rodney clapped his hands, which sounded like a gunshot. “Get on the radar, I need to know where this thing is going. Lorne, can you save any of your GPS units?”

“I’m on it.” Lorne disappeared back into the garage.

Police sirens started to sound in the distance, and John hoped that meant help was on the way. He had no way of knowing if anyone was trapped in the debris.

Carson poked his head out of his car. “It’s backing northeast. It…ah…it looks to hit Wakita head on.”

All the blood drained from Rodney’s face and John was worried he might pass out, but he quickly rallied. “We’re going. We’re going. Let’s go! Lorne!”

“Move out!” Ronon bellowed.

“Hang on, Rodney!” John called out, but there was no stopping the other man as he moved frantically from vehicle to vehicle, checking storm data.

“Where’s the phone?”

Carson shook his head. “The lines are down, Rodney, I already tried.”

“Okay, we’re going.”

“Damn it, Rodney, hang on! I’ll drive.” John hurried over to Nancy, passing Lorne on his way.

“Look, we can jump the thirty-eight exchange and cross highway one-thirty-two,” Lorne said, poking at his Garmin.

John nodded absently and grabbed Nancy’s hands in his, giving them what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. “I gotta go.”

She nodded. “I’m going back.”

John tried not to feel relieved that she didn’t want to tag along this time; he was going to have a hard enough time wrangling Rodney as it was, especially since he was also worried about Vee. “Good. You’ll be safe at the motel. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No. You won’t.”

He wasn’t expecting that, and it caught him up short. “What? Why? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying goodbye.” She sounded…resigned.

“What? No…”

“I didn’t realize until we came here how little of you I had. You need to stay, Johnny. You’re more… _real_ here. And he…he needs you. More than I do.”

“I never meant for this to happen,” John said with absolute sincerity. He would’ve married her, would’ve tried to make a life with her. It had never been his intention to hurt her, but maybe it had been unavoidable. Another fuck-up he had to take responsibility for. It didn’t help that he felt guilty for feeling a little relieved, as if a weight had been lifted that he hadn’t even realized he was carrying.

“I know, Johnny. It’s okay.”

“Sheppard!” Ronon called.

“Go ahead. They need you. I hope Aunt Vee is okay.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I know my way home.”

John watched her walk away, taking his normal life with her. He was starting to think that normal wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

“We can be in Wakita in about an hour,” Lorne said. “Come on, John!”

He took a deep breath and nodded, sprinting to the truck. Rodney was already in the passenger seat, fingers nervously tapping on the center console. He’d found a new shirt to change into, one that said _Ask Me About Meteorology_ on the front in bold red letters.

They pulled out just as police and rescue vehicles were pulling in. Lorne had taken over driving for Radek, who had received medical treatment from Carson and had his head wrapped in gauze, because Teyla wasn’t comfortable behind the wheel. Driving during a storm chase was not unlike combat driving; not everyone could do it.

“Nancy stay at the motel?” Rodney asked distractedly.

John gave him a sideways look, but his face was unreadable. “Yeah. She’s, uh, she’s going back to Wichita.”

“Oh.”

Rodney was getting twitchy again and John reached out to clasp his shoulder. “Vee’s going to be fine.”

“I know. It’s just…you know, she’s all I have left.” His voice broke a little at the end and he turned away to face the window.

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

“John…”

“Rodney, look, just…”

“No!” Rodney hunched in on himself. “Don’t make promises you won’t keep, John. Not again.”

John winced, but there was nothing he could say. He knew it had hurt Rodney, the way he’d left, particularly because it was so hard for the man to get close to other people in any significant way. And really, he had no idea what to do now. He couldn’t promise to stay, though the longer he was with the team the more he wanted to.

“Lorne, do you have any short cuts?”

_I’m working on it, Rodney. We’ll get there as soon as we can._

“Make it sooner.”

John pushed harder on the accelerator. There was a lot of uncertainty in his life right now, but one thing was clear – he needed to get Rodney to Wakita, needed to make sure Vee was okay. Everything else could wait.

*o*o*o*

In the midst of the chase, with adrenalin pumping through your veins as you searched for the perfect funnel cloud, it was easy to forget that lives could be destroyed, family homes leveled, whole neighborhoods wiped off the map. Most of the chasing happened out on the plains and it was easy to think of nothing but the power, the beauty of the storm. But Rodney never forgot; he always got white around the mouth and pinched around the eyes when the storms they chased moved near towns, communities, farms.

When they rolled into Wakita he looked haunted. It was less a town and more a war zone. Historical buildings had been reduced to rubble, and one entire side of Main Street had been completely flattened; there was nothing even recognizable as a structure anymore. Power lines were down all over, the only light coming from police cars, rescue vehicles and news vans.

They weren’t able to get close enough to Vee’s house with their own vehicles because the road was too clogged with debris. Rodney was the first one to strike out on foot and John was quick to catch up, worried the other man might hurt himself in his haste. Ronon, Lorne and Radek all carried high-powered flashlights to help guide their way.

“Oh, no,” Rodney whispered.

Vee’s beautiful farmhouse was still standing, though the second floor was now more like the first floor and the walls were canted inwards as if it would collapse in on itself at any moment. Half the roof was gone and only one wall of the garage still stood. The big tree in the front had been completely uprooted, and those that remained were full of random bits of clothing, sheet metal, and one even contained the entire mangled frame of a bicycle.

Rodney broke into a run and it was all John could do to keep up with him. No time to worry about twisting an ankle.

“Rodney, wait!”

“Vee!” 

“Rodney!” John was too late to stop him from climbing up the porch roof, which collapsed enough to serve as a ramp of sorts to the second floor.

“Sheppard! Catch!” Ronon tossed him a flashlight.

“Thanks. Hey, get an EMT over here if you can, she’s going to need some medical attention.”

“On it.”

John scrambled up the roof after Rodney, who had already climbed in one of the broken windows. “Be careful, this house is ready to go.”

“Vee!”

They were in a bedroom; a dresser toppled over as they made their way carefully past it. Rodney flinched and backed into John, who steadied him with one hand.

“Careful.”

“Vee? Vee!”

“Shh. I heard something.”

Rodney’s mouth snapped shut and they both listened as hard as they could. One minute seemed to stretch forever as they heard the house creaking and groaning ominously around them, but then it came again – a dog’s whimper.

“Benny!”

Rodney hurried toward the noise of the frightened dog and almost fell through a hole in the floor; John grabbed his collar and yanked him back.

“Jesus! Will you _please_ be careful? One rescue at a time.”

John’s heart was pounding. He was worried the house was going to come crashing down on their heads before they could get to Vee.

“Okay, nice and easy, buddy. Follow me.” He inched towards the hole and swung the flashlight around, assessing the situation. Just then the floor lurched, dropping several inches, and John slid through the hole; the ragged edge of flooring caught his arm and opened up a long gash.

“John!”

“I’m okay! Come over, nice and easy.” He’d dropped down onto the couch and helped ease Rodney down to join him. There was a much larger hole down there, and when John aimed the flashlight down into it he could see Benny, a bit bedraggled, looking back up at him.

“She’s down there, I know she’s down there.” Rodney leaned over the hole, one hand clutching John’s arm. “Vee! We’re coming!”

Using furniture and broken lengths of floorboard, John and Rodney were able to climb down into the basement. Vee was lying on an old mattress, a toppled wooden shelf on top of her; she was in her nightgown and bleeding from a nasty-looking head wound, but she was awake and breathing.

Rodney dropped to his knees beside her, hands fluttering out to touch but not landing for fear of hurting her. John carefully lifted the shelving unit and tossed it to the side.

“Are you okay? It’s Rodney, I’m right here.”

Vee sat up, with help, her eyes not quite focused. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

A chunk of the floor above them dropped down about a foot and sent the old, bulky thirty-two inch TV skidding in their direction.

“Look out!” John shouted. He and Rodney both threw themselves over Vee, but the TV landed just shy of them in a spray of broken glass and plastic. That seemed to help Vee focus.

“We should go.”

“Can you walk?” John asked. She nodded, wincing as she did so; he wondered what other injuries she had that they couldn’t see. He helped her stand up, then waited for Rodney to regain the first floor before boosting Vee up to join him.

“Johnny! Bring Benny. I think he’s a little shook up.”

“I’ve got him.” John turned and picked up the dog, who was trembling with fear. “It’s okay, boy. We’re getting out of here.”

He handed Benny up to Rodney, and then climbed up himself. They repeated the process to get to the second floor. Just as they were close to escaping there was a rending noise and the whole house shifted, dropping down several feet. John went sprawling, almost back through the hole, but he kept one hand on Benny’s collar and the other on the window frame. Rodney pressed Vee up against the wall and pinned her there, feet braced.

“Sheppard!” Ronon shouted from right outside the window.

“We’re okay! We’re coming out!” he shouted back.

“Get an ambulance over here!” Rodney ordered. He handed Vee over to Ronon, who thought nothing of picking her up and carrying her back down to street level, where Carson was waiting with his first aid bag. Rodney helped John get Benny out the window, passing the dog over to Lorne, and then they were all safely out.

Rodney stayed glued to Vee’s side while Carson looked her over; he was pretty sure she had a concussion but wanted to wait for the EMTs to give her a full once-over. John looked down at himself, covered in dust, dirt and blood, and thought about the shower he’d taken at the house earlier in the day; seemed like a lifetime ago now.

They had to wait ten minutes for an EMT and an ambulance. Ronon had gone off with Lorne to check the neighboring houses to see if anyone needed help. They’d just gotten Vee up on a gurney when the house gave up the ghost and collapsed with a groan and a splintering of wood. All John could think was what would’ve happened if they hadn’t gotten there in time; it would’ve killed Rodney to lose his aunt that way.

While Rodney stayed with Vee, John climbed into the back of Ronon’s bus to monitor the news reports and radar. Plus, it was a convenient place to hide while his hands shook with what-might-have-beens. Carson eventually sniffed him out, tsking over the gash on his arm and taking care of cleaning and bandaging it.

“You did good, John.”

“We could’ve been too late.”

“But we weren’t.” He put the last bit of surgical tape on the gauze and gave John’s shoulder a squeeze. “Vee will be okay, and so will Rodney.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Carson just nodded and went to see if there was anyone else who could benefit from some basic first aid. John went back to staring blindly at the monitors, letting the information wash over him without really absorbing any of it.

_The EF4 that hit Wakita has now moved to the northeast. I’ve just gotten word that an even stronger tornado has now started to form twenty-five miles south of Wakita right where the two storm systems have finally met. The National Weather Service is saying that this is highly unusual and that this latest tornado could be the strongest EF5 tornado that the state has seen in more than thirty years._

John remained zoned out until he heard the ambulance leave. He turned to watch it go and was surprised to see Rodney standing outside the bus, watching him. He’d thought for sure that Rodney would go with Vee to the hospital.

“You hurt yourself.”

John looked down at his freshly bandaged arm. “Just a scratch. How’s Vee?”

Rodney shrugged wearily. “Concussion, like Carson said. Broken wrist. Assorted bumps and bruises, but she’ll be okay. They’re keeping her overnight.”

“Do you need a ride to the hospital?”

“I wanted to thank you.” He looked down at his hands, which he was wringing together nervously. “You didn’t have to stick around but you did. So…thanks.”

“I love her too, you know,” John said softly.

Rodney nodded, looking away. “I know. It’s just…just…I…” He stopped talking, staring at something John couldn’t see.

“Hey? You okay?”

Rodney waved a hand at him, which usually indicated that he needed silence. Clearly he was working something out. John loved to watch him during these moments of epiphany, when he could practically hear the other man’s brain churning right before he popped out with something brilliant.

Radek came running over, a radio in his hand and a nervous look on his face. “Rodney.”

“Not now, Radek.”

“It’s NSSL. They predict an EF5.”

Rodney snapped out of his reverie, a big grin on his face. He spun around, pointing first at Radek and then at John. “You, stay here. You, come with me.”

“Rodney, what?”

“No time, no time, let’s go!”

John let himself be dragged back to the remains of Vee’s house. When they got there Rodney looked at him expectantly.

“Well?”

“Well what?” John countered. 

Rodney sighed, and put his hand over John’s eyes. “Don’t look, listen.”

He did as instructed, and there was no shortage of sound in the immediate area; sparking power lines, the cries and murmurs of displaced families, the chimes on Vee’s sculpture…

“Oh, God! You’re a genius!” John pulled Rodney’s hand away, looking to see Vee’s twisty metal sculpture; it was still in place, turning lazily in the light breeze.

“We can make Dorothy fly,” Rodney said, clearly pleased. 

John tapped his earpiece. “Listen up, gang. We need cutters and duct tape. Lorne, Ronon, I want to get the last Dorothys on the back of my truck.”  
“I need every aluminum can you can find,” Rodney added. “Let’s get ready to move out!”

John tugged Rodney back to their vehicles so they could rough out sketches. The storm had battered them, but they weren’t beaten yet!

*o*o*o*

There was a reason that Evan Lorne was the team’s navigator. He had a way of finessing any GPS system – and he had three – but there was also a natural sense of direction that had only rarely led them wrong. No-one was perfect, and driving two hundred miles in the wrong direction in Nebraska could’ve happened to anyone. Lorne more than made up for his past mistakes by finding the team a redemption center full of bins containing cans and bottles meant to be recycled. It was on their way and better yet closed for the night, which meant they didn’t have to negotiate with anyone; Ronon kicked the door in and Rodney left a check to cover damages and pilfered cans.

The creation of aluminum “wings” to attach to the sensors took place in the Puddlejumper, which had the most room to move around in. Laura was recruited for the unforgiving job of cutting and crimping the aluminum, as were Teyla and Radek. Rodney took over driving the Puddlejumper so Ronon could pitch in as well, which let him be on hand to criticize and cajole the others into doing the job to his satisfaction.

“How’s it going over there, Rodney?” John asked. “Your sweatshop finished yet?”

 _We’re good to go_ , Ronon replied. _Right, McKay?_

_Yes, yes. It’s adequate. Let’s find a shady spot, Sheppard._

“Copy that.”

John drove on until he found a wide enough spot on the shoulder to safely park the caravan. The sun was coming up, though that was mostly supposition since the sky was overcast and stormy, and a large tornado was slowly growing massive right in front of them. He hopped out of the truck and climbed up into the bed, opening the lids of both remaining Dorothys. 

“We need to get medical,” Teyla said, handing up a box of altered sensors. Her hands, like those of her fellow teammates, were covered in cuts and wrapped in Band-Aids and gauze. 

“Dorothy flies and medical will definitely go on the list,” Rodney promised. Several more boxes of sensors were passed up to John, who dumped them in the canisters. When the last box had been emptied he secured the lids and gave each one a good-luck tap.

“We’re good.”

“Okay, guys, get ready to monitor.” Rodney favored them all with an uncharacteristic smile. “We’re gonna do it this time.”

“Go Team McKay!” Laura shouted, high-fiving Lorne. “We’re back in business!”

“Move out!” Ronon ordered. Benny, who had been riding shotgun with Lorne, barked his approval.

The caravan got back underway, after a brief tug of war between John and Rodney for the truck keys; John’s longer arms assured his victory, though he had to suffer bruised shins.

“This has to work,” Rodney said quietly. “John, this…if it doesn’t…”

“It _will_. You built it, and you’re a genius.” He spared a glance and offered up his most sincere grin. “I believe in you.”

Rodney snorted. “When you say stuff like that you look absolutely ridiculous, you know that?

“I was totally sincere,” John said indignantly. 

“No-one with that hair is _totally sincere_.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

“It defies gravity. It laughs mockingly at every law of physics.” Rodney’s arms waved as he struggled to explain all the ways that John’s cowlicks offended science. John just rolled his eyes and made token protests; he knew it was just Rodney’s way of deflecting – McKay _displayed_ his emotions, he never _discussed_ them.

 _Tornado on the ground!_ someone said over the CB radio.

_I see it!_

Which was an understatement. The massive wedge was moving rapidly off to their left, already darkened with debris. Rodney twisted in his seat, watching with wide eyes.

“Laura, are you getting this?”

_I’m on it, Rodney. God, that’s one photogenic tornado!_

“It’s gonna cross the road,” John said, splitting his attention between the storm and driving.

“Half a mile more,” Rodney directed.

“Sounds right. I figure we’ll put her right in the middle of the road.”

“Unless you think somebody’ll hit it.”

John shook his head grimly. “Nobody’ll be there.”

Storm chasers drove in where all others feared to tread. The tornado was big enough that most people would be smart enough to stay away from it. John and Rodney, on the other hand, would be putting themselves dangerously close. 

After they’d achieved that half mile John braked hard and spun the wheel, turning the truck. He got out and ran around to the back to help Rodney get Dorothy Three out. The wind was howling, pulling at John’s clothes and hair. They carried the unit out the center line and turned it on.

“Hurry! Let’s go!”

“You got it?”

“She’s all set.”

They ran back to the truck and Rodney immediately got on the line with the team. “Ronon, you guys in position?”

_Primed and ready for contact, McKay._

“Waiting for intercept.”

John drove a safe distance away before throwing the truck in park.

“This is it.” Rodney’s chin was set.

“It’s gonna work.”

“Just another minute, guys.”

_We’re ready for it!_

Rodney pulled out the digital recorder and slid out the open truck window so that he was sitting on the door. John followed suit, using one hand on the roof to brace himself with. He shared a look with Rodney, the other man’s face an open display of emotion. John reached across and grabbed his hand, and they both turned to watch the show.

As the tornado crossed the road in front of the instrument pack, Dorothy Three began sliding back and forth along the asphalt, and John had a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Come on. Take her! Take her!” Rodney kept up his chant, mostly under his breath, but it wasn’t going to happen.

“It’s too light,” John said.

“No it’s not!”

Dorothy continued to skid around, buffeted by the high winds. “We’re losing it!”

“No we’re not! She can still fly!”

The argument was cut short when a good sized length of tree limb came flying out of the tornado, barreling into Dorothy and knocking it over. Rodney looked crushed, but John was more interested in the fact that the tree was still moving and heading right for them.

“Crap!” He smacked Rodney on the arm. “We gotta go!”

“Oh, no.”

They both slid back into their seats and hastily buckled up, but it was too late; the tree hit them from behind and jammed them up so that both rear tires were completely up off the road.

“Get us off this thing!” Rodney shouted.

“Come on! Come on!” John pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor, but the tires kept getting caught up on the tree. He took his foot off the gas, popped the truck in neutral, and dropped it into four wheel drive.

“John! Let’s go! Hurry!”

The tornado was getting uncomfortably close now, the inflow pulling everything inwards including the mounted truck. He got a little more traction in four wheel drive but he wasn’t sure it would be enough.

“What is _that?_ ” Rodney’s voice was high and tight and he had a white-knuckled grip on the door handle.

John glanced up and then froze. Something was moving inside the tornado, something big and metallic. “What the hell _is_ that?”

“Hurry! Hurry!”

“This is not good.”

The object finally broke free of the outer wall of the tornado and headed right for them. It was a tanker truck and it was coming in fast, sideways and airborne.

“Hold on!” John gave the gas everything he had and finally – _finally!_ – the tires caught and he was able to move the truck off the damned tree limb.

“Go!” Rodney shouted.

John hesitated, though, when he lost sight of the tanker in the rearview mirror, and that saved their lives. The tanker dropped down, hard, a hundred feet in front of them and exploded. John gunned it and yanked the wheel to the left, driving off the road completely and briefly through the wall of flame and smoke before they popped out on the other side. 

“Son of a bitch,” he murmured, and let out the breath he’d been holding.

_John! Rodney! You alright? Can you guys hear me?_

“We’re okay, Lorne,” John replied. “Right buddy?”

Rodney just gaped at him, pale and wide-eyed.

_Did you see that explosion?_

“Yeah. We saw it.” John couldn’t resist checking the rearview for another look. There was a smaller explosion, presumably as the gas tank caught fire.

_It’s still moving northeast on eighty, you copy?_

“Copy that.” Rodney looked at John. “This is it. Last one.”

“Last time,” he agreed.

“Lorne, we need to get out of the direct path of this storm.”

_Copy. Keep your heading, then make a left on twenty-three._

“Copy that.” Rodney turned to the window, to keep an eye out for their turn, and then Kavanagh’s voice crackled over the CB radio as he talked to his own team.

_…alongside her. We’re getting ready to intercept, so hold back a bit, prepare to monitor._

John sighed. “They have position. They could make it.” He waited to see what Rodney would say, and was filled with pride when he didn’t respond with snark or outrage.

“Not unless they anchor the pack.” He reached for the CB. “Kavanagh? It’s McKay. Can you hear me?”

_Not now, Rodney._

“Listen to me. The pack is too light; the tornado will toss it before it reaches the core. You have to anchor it.”

_Oh, sharing valuable information? That’s a first. I’ll take that under all due consideration._

“You need to listen, you moron!” Rodney shouted. “Don’t be a dick about this! I’m just trying to…”

John snatched the CB out of his hand. “What’s your position, Kavanagh?”

_Sheppard. Still hanging in there? We’re heading northeast running parallel and about to pull ahead on the left, why?_

“Hang back a minute, we’ve got a pretty good view from here. She could shift her track and if she does she’ll come right at you. Do you copy?” 

“He’s not gonna listen,” Rodney grumbled. “Incompetent ass.”

John shared his frustration. They’d never really gotten along well with Kavanagh, but the man had to know they wouldn’t interfere needlessly with his chase.

“Peter, please, listen…”

_Get off this frequency, Sheppard!_

John’s hand tightened on the CB. He pulled off the road, watching the storm spin away ahead and to the right of them. To the side of it, in the distance, he could see Kavanagh’s black SUV. Too close, much too close. And then it got worse.

“She’s shifting,” Rodney said, no emotion in his voice at all.

“Jesus. Kavanagh! I’m telling you…turn around now! Get out of there!”

Even as he was shouting it was too late. The outer wall of the tornado swept up Kavanagh’s SUV and the attached trailer carrying his instrument pack. John’s free hand clenched into a fist and he was unable to look away as Kavanagh and his driver were pulled up into the air. He was too far away to do anything, too far away to see what piece of debris impacted the SUV and knocked it back out of the tornado. The vehicle plummeted to the ground and landed in a ball of flame.

Rodney made a choked sound beside him, but all John could feel was anger. He threw the CB and pounded on the steering wheel. Stupid _fucking_ Kavanagh! Always thought he knew better than anyone else, never able to take suggestions. The world’s biggest asshole, but no-one deserved to die like that.

“Damn it! Stupid!”

“We tried,” Rodney said, sounding oddly calm. “There was no way to stop him.”

John glanced over, ready to lambaste him, but the look on Rodney’s face stopped him short. His cheeks were wet with tears and his lips had practically disappeared, his mouth was so pinched.

“Rodney…”

“There’s nothing we can do, John.”

“The hell there’s not.” Before he could talk himself out of it, John wrapped his hand around the back of Rodney’s neck and pulled him in for a quick, rough press of lips that didn’t really qualify as a kiss.

When he pulled back, heart pounding, Rodney’s eyes were bright for a whole different reason and he licked at his lips. John waited, wondered if he just made a huge mistake. And then Rodney grinned.

“Let’s get this done, John. For Vee. And fucking Kavanagh.”

“For your parents, and Jeannie.”

“For us.”

John put the truck in gear and they were on the road again; it was do or die time, and he had no plans to die.

*o*o*o*

_Rodney, ground speed is increasing. Get ahead of it as fast as you can or she’s gonna bury you!_

John kept his foot on the gas; they were trying to get ahead of the tornado, which was coming up fast behind them on the left. They went flying past a John Deere dealership and he shared an uneasy look with Rodney. His feeling was justified when the storm hit the dealership and started flinging farm equipment at them.

“Debris! We have debris!” Rodney shouted for the benefit of the team.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” John dodged around a combine.

Rodney shouted out directions, which wasn’t particularly helpful. “Right! Left! Right!”

A tire bounced off the already cracked windshield, spider-webbing the entire passenger side. They both ducked, and that wasn’t particularly useful either. Finally giant-sized farm equipment stopped dropping on them and they had a moment to catch their breath.

 _You still with us?_ Ronon asked.

“Barely.”

John saw movement behind some trees up ahead and hit the brake. “What now?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rodney muttered.

It was a two-story house, rolling across the highway like a ball, leaving behind a trail of wood, glass, and household belongings. John and Rodney didn’t have long to watch it continue its journey, not with the tornado bearing down on them.

“We need to get off this road.”

Rodney nodded. “That’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“Chewie, you guys set up?

_All set here. You going in?_

“We are.” John looked over at Rodney. “You ready?”

“I’m on it.” He squeezed himself through the back window to prep the last Dorothy; it was a close thing because his shoulders were almost too broad to fit through.

John craned his head out the side window, tracking the path of the tornado. It was moving away from the road and there wasn’t a cut-off readily available that he could follow. He was going to have to take the truck off road.

“Get your ass back in here, McKay!” he shouted.

“Dorothy’s ready.”

“Okay. Get in here, it’s about to get bumpy.”

As soon as Rodney wiggled back through the window and into his seat, John whipped the wheel to the right and they lurched off the shoulder, through a shallow ditch, and into a cornfield. Corn stalks slapped against the side of the truck and Rodney braced himself against the dashboard as they bounced along.

 _Speed is still increasing_ , Teyla reported.

_We’ve lost visual. Repeat, lost visual. Where are you guys?_

John let Rodney answer, driving and staying out of the way of the tornado taking all his attention.

“We’re in a cornfield, Lorne. Getting ready to intercept.”

The tornado was in front of them now. John took one last moment to enjoy his formerly shiny new truck; they’d be leaving Dorothy strapped to the back to give it the extra weight it needed.

“You ready?” Rodney asked. He looked determined yet terrified.

“Yeah. Let me just set the cruise control.” He suited words to action and gave the dash a surreptitious pat. “We’re good.”

“On three?”

“On three. Go.”

John pushed open his door and had to strain to keep it that way, against the pressure of the corn stalks; he could hear Rodney grunting with the effort of doing the same on his side. The truck was going fifty, straight towards the tornado.

“Ready?” he asked

“No! But let’s do it anyway.”

John did the count. “One…two…three!”

He jumped, hitting the ground hard and rolling. Stalks smacked into him hard enough to leave bruises, but he immediately regained his feet and looked for Rodney, who was smeared with dirt but had eyes only for the truck.

“Go! Go! Damn you, go!”

When the truck got close enough it went airborne, and the lid released on Dorothy. The upflow winds took the sensors, carrying them far up the funnel.

“Yes!” Rodney cheered. He grabbed John around the waist, dancing him around. “Yes! Yes! We did it!”

_Dorothy’s flying! She’s flying!_

_It’s working!_

_We’re gonna be very popular!_

_We’re already getting readings!_

John laughed out loud. Dorothy had been in the planning stages for such a long time, to see it working, doing exactly what they’d dreamed, was unbelievable. His dream, and Rodney’s, had been realized. It was a heady moment.

_The storm is shifting. Repeat, the storm is shifting. Do you copy?_

_Sheppard, you and McKay need to get out of there!_

John froze, Rodney’s hands still on his waist, and looked at the tornado. Carson was right; it was shifting and that meant they were directly in its path. Corn stalks were starting to rip right out of the ground and the wind was getting too fast too quickly.

“Run!” He grabbed Rodney’s arm and took off, trying to stay between the rows to avoid getting sliced up by the stiff leaves on the stalks. When they cleared the field he was relieved to see a barn; any port in a storm.

“The barn! Head for the barn!” The sound of the storm was like a jet engine and he couldn’t be sure Rodney even heard him. They raced alongside a picket fence, the boards getting plucked out behind them as they went, looking for an opening so they could cross to the barn. Horses outpaced them on the other side and John hoped they found some shelter of their own.

Rodney spotted the hole in the fence first and waved wildly at John, who nodded and followed him through. They ran for the barn and had just reached the corner of it when some of the fence posts slammed into the wall just above their heads. John reached out and pushed Rodney’s head down, ducking himself. It took both of them to get the small side door open, fighting the wind, and then they were inside.

John could hear some ominous clanking above the noise of the storm and looked up. Hanging from the rafters were all manner of very sharp, very pointy farm implements. He didn’t recognize all of them, but made out a sickle, knives, saws, and post hole diggers. Rodney followed his gaze.

“Who the hell _are_ these people?”

“We can’t stay here.” It wasn’t just the pointy death waiting to drop down on them at any minute; John could hear the storm and it was almost right on top of them. He pushed Rodney out a door on the other side of the barn, the hair on the back of his neck rising. They ran back outside, and it was some sixth sense that made John shoot a glance over his shoulder in time to see part of the metal roof heading their way.

“Fuck!” He tackled Rodney and they both hit the dirt just time to avoid being sliced in half.

“This sucks!” Rodney shouted in his ear. John nodded his agreement, dragging him back to his feet.

They ran alongside a sunflower field, and John had to squint against all the dirt flying through the air. This time it was Rodney who took him down and he had a vague impression of red barn wall cutting through the air. He was so tired of having things flung at him today!

There was a pump house up ahead, at the crest of a small hill, and he almost went past it; then he thought about the pipes and how deep they ran. The farmhouse was too far away and this was the only thing between them and the tornado. He grabbed Rodney’s hand and pulled him along.

“Here! Get in!”

Again, they had to fight with the door to get it open. There was a large, pipe coming out of the concrete floor, shaped like an inverted ‘u’; it was sunk at least thirty feet into the concrete and dirt.

“If we anchor to this we might have a chance!”

They took opposite sides of the small room, searching. Rodney hooted, and held up several lengths of nylon rope he’d pulled out of a metal box in one corner.

“That’s perfect!” John took one of the lengths from him and looped it around the pipe. He tied it around Rodney’s waist, wishing it was longer so it could go over his shoulders too for added safety.

The pump house started to shake, the groaning of the boards almost lost over the animalistic roar of the tornado. John tried to tie up his own rope but his fingers were fumbling and he couldn’t get the knot right. The first of the wall boards started to pull away and time was up. He looked at Rodney, putting his apology in his eyes. 

“No!” He couldn’t hear the actual word but he could read it well enough on Rodney’s angry face. He snatched the rope out of John’s hand and threw it over his shoulder. He let Rodney push him to the floor, straddling the pipe. Rodney sat behind him, wrapping his body around him like a shield.

“Hang on!” he shouted in John’s ear.

John closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the pipe, which shook with the force of the wind. The roof was ripped off – he could tell by the change in pressure – and the walls around them disintegrated as more and more boards were caught in the updraft. He could feel Rodney’s chest vibrating, couldn’t tell if he was talking or screaming.

The updrafts caught at them too, tugging on their clothes and pulling at their bodies. At one point he could actually feel Rodney lifting up and away from him and he knew a moment of absolute terror that the man would get sucked away in the storm. But he underestimated Rodney, who reached around John to get his own hold on the pipe; they were pressed so tightly together that John fancied he could feel Rodney’s heart beat. He focused on that, ignoring everything else, and it was a few minutes before he realized that the storm was over.

He blinked his eyes open, saw that the entire pump house was destroyed, just the pipe and the square of concrete floor left. The sky was already clearing, sun filtering through the lightening clouds. The tornado must’ve shifted again or they would’ve been dead.

“Rodney. Hey. _Rodney_.” John tried to nudge him back, but he was still tightly wound around him.

He pried Rodney’s hands off the pipe. “Hey, buddy. It’s okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

Finally Rodney stirred, but instead of moving away he put his arms around John’s waist and rested his forehead between John’s shoulder blades.

“Is it a bad pun to say that sucked?”

John snorted, and put his hands over Rodney’s. “I’m willing to let it slide. Any chance I can stop hugging this pipe?”

They began the process of untangling, from each other and Rodney from the rope. Rodney was looking a little worse for wear – he must’ve gotten hit with some of the debris, judging by the stiffness in his movements and the weeping gash on his temple. John turned away, afraid of what might be showing on his face, and stretched, working out the last of the tension from his shoulders. 

“Check it out. It didn’t take the house.”

“It didn’t take you,” Rodney said solemnly. “That’s all that matters.”

If John ever did the swooning girl thing, he’d have done it right then. He turned to look at Rodney, and was filled with so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Rodney that this was it, that Rodney had saved him again just as he’d saved him all those years ago when his life was going down the crapper. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry for leaving, that he’d been wrong, and that the first thing he was going to do when he got back home was to find a way out of his contract.

In the end there were too many words and so he didn’t say anything, just tugged Rodney close and kissed him, kissed him the way he’d been dreaming of for over a year. Rodney’s lips were chapped, they both stank of sweat and fear, their skin was gritty with dirt, and it was still the best kiss John ever had. He wouldn’t have minded it going on forever, but suddenly Rodney was pulling away, his eyes wide and fingers snapping.

“We have so much to do!”

“I was thinking we’d do more of that.” John ran his hand down Rodney’s arm and clasped their hands together. “I didn’t mind that.”

“I’ve got to get grant approvals for a new warning system, we need a bigger lab, I’ll have press junkets, you’ve got to do an analysis of all that data…”

Rodney and his one track mind. John grinned, even as he responded as he was meant to. “I have to do analysis?”

“Well, of course! You’ve got to generate models out of all this data and I need to run the lab…”

“Oh, no! You’re the science guy, you do the analysis. I’m the one that should do the press junkets – I’ve got the good looks. In fact, I’ll bet the Discovery Channel decides to base a new reality show on me.”

Rodney laughed, and tightened his fingers around John’s. “With that hair? You’ll make us a laughing stock. Leave the pretty-boy acting to Reed.”

John wondered if he should be worried that Rodney thought Reed, a chaser of their acquaintance who was a favorite of the Discovery Channel, was attractive. “You love my hair.”

Dr. Rodney McKay, double PhD and well known severe storms genius, actually blushed, and cut short any further comments by pulling John in for another kiss. This one lasted until the rest of the team arrived, giddy with excitement.

“You got it, guys! The sensors worked!” Laura gave John a high five.

Carson nodded. “The computers went crazy, we’ve got data coming out of our ears!”

“It was the biggest tornado ever recorded, or so says NSSL.” Teyla smiled, but she gave the both of them a shrewd look. “It is definitely a day for amazing things to happen.”

Ronon bumped John with his shoulder. “You gonna stick around, Sheppard?”

Everyone looked at him expectantly, except for Rodney who was looking down at his feet. They’d dropped hands when the rest of the team had arrived, but John reached for him, their fingers automatically twining together.

“You know what they say.” He waited for Rodney to look at him again. “There’s no place like home.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** So, I have no idea where this came from. But it seemed like a good fit, especially for me. I’m a longtime fan of tornadoes – probably because I don’t live anywhere near Tornado Alley and have never seen an actual twister – and Twister is one of my favorite movies. It was fun dropping the SGA characters in and seeing how they did.
> 
> I used the actual movie and a transcript of the movie to help while I wrote this. Some of the dialogue is straight from the film, but I tried to keep as close to the characters as much as possible when they were speaking. I also name-dropped some real storm chasers, because I also watched all three seasons of Storm Chasers on the Discovery Channel while I was writing this. LOL! Talk about immersion!
> 
> One of the things I also tried to do was put a bit more reality into the situations from the movie. I mean, overall the whole thing was fantastical but there were elements that always bugged me and I tried to fix some of those. I kept the happy ending, though, and gave a final shout-out to Wizard of Oz and the first tornado I ever saw on screen.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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